


Dinner with Friends (and Fools)

by mikeginsanity (blahblahwahwah)



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Gen, Season/Series 01, themes from 108, written prior to 107
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/mikeginsanity
Summary: Mike has to deal with seeing his ex-wife and her fiance at a dinner with friends.But he doesn't have to face it alone.M for language.NOTE: This was written prior to 107 with themes incorporated from 107 and 108.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CLKit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLKit/gifts).



> Because I'm sick of all the bawson angst. I want them to be friends now.  
> also...what [CLKit](http://clkit.tumblr.com/post/152717657249/monkshoodr-clkit-monkshoodr-clkit) said.

So.

Mike Lawson was in love.

And not with Amelia.

And as irrational and as pathetic her inner teenager hoped, it wasn’t her either.

 

How this all starts…

 

Seeing Mike mope is something of a rarity.

Sure, there was the ever present immature ribbing and joking, if one saw through the defence mechanisms – but –  here, at this game they’re playing against the _Dodgers_ – he’s so obvious that the phrase ‘down in the dumps’ needs to be redefined with a picture of his face on it.

He had progressively stopped speaking with her over the last two days - ever since they reached LA, as a matter of fact. She would have taken it, personally, but she’d seen him retreating from everyone. Even from Blip to some extent.

(There was a lot of shit, to shovel between her and Mike, in a manner of speaking. Their rocky dynamic was stabilizing, now, somewhat. Mike had been pretty gracious to her after her cold shouldering phase. Therapy helped her deal with the pressure, so she didn’t feel so restless and snipey all the time.  In fact, Duarte’s entry, had her siding with him – though not publicly. She liked Duarte well enough - but she had made it clear to anyone who’d listen, that Lawson was still her preferred battery mate.)

Something was off, about him - even prior to the game. Ginny was sitting in the guest clubhouse of the _Dodgers_ stadium, scanning through the hitters list, sneaking glances at him. There was the usual hustle-bustle going on - the usual ruckus – players throwing stuff around and goofing off.

But, Mike was sulking.

(Which is amazing that she figured it out, because he was laughing at that particular moment.)

He was sitting on a chair, with his elbows over his knees and his head down. Blip was telling him something – and he was laughing. Visibly. Shoulders shaking, head nodding up and down.  Anyone who didn’t know him well enough would probably think he was happy and probably just leaning his head down because the joke was funny.

But, Ginny could see from the way his shoulders slouched, the half-assed nature of that smile that he was not feeling too good.

She shrugged off her concern. Mike was a private guy. He never opened up about weaknesses. Even, if he did loquaciously ramble on about irrelevant details of his life,  it was mostly bluster.  

Maybe his knees were bothering him. Maybe he was down with the flu.

Except, Ginny knew it wasn’t any of that.

(He was her catcher. She spent ninety percent of her time telepathically communicating with him. The remain ten percent was staring at those finger signals over his crotch. There's a certain level of intimacy they share by virtue of being batterymates alone.)

Of course, Ginny would know that it wasn't any of that.)

 

He’s completely disconnected on field.

He’s making all the wrong calls and even though she tries to be cooperative, sixty percent of the time she’s forced to wave him off because he’s veered off from their strike plan.

He knows it, too.

Sixty-feet six inches away from him, she can see the way his shakes his head at every ball that’s lost to a run, like he’s forgotten what he was supposed to call for that specific hitter.

If Ginny didn’t know the guy any better she would say he seemed lost, apathetic – almost catatonic. If he wasn’t only thirty six, she would seriously wonder if he was stroking out right now.

(He’s not even chewing gum. That's got to be a sign of an impending apocalypse – at the very least.)

The ball she throws is perfect. It sails away from the bat and lands perfectly in Lawson’s mitt. Only to teeter out – because he doesn’t snap it shut in time. An uncaught third strike.

She sighs and calls for time (– honestly, it’s the first time since she joined the Padres that _she’s_ the one calling for time!) She motions that _she_ wants to talk to him.

It seems poetic in a way that maybe she’s growing in to her role.

Except she isn’t. Something’s not right with him.

“Sorry.” Mike says, emotionlessly, stating the obvious. “I know it’s me.”

“Yeah, but you’re making me look bad.” She says, attempting to joke.

He looks genuinely hurt. Just makes that - pathetic - face. She can’t tell exactly what _that_ face is ( that godawful fuzz on his face covers his lips ) but – she’s rarely seen him make that face.

It feels like - he’s sad.

“What is up with you?” Ginny asks, restlessly.

He grimaces and pulls his face mask off. “I’m having a bad day.”

“You _never_ have bad days!” She hisses. “You’re Mike Lawson.”

He looks away and mutters something that sounds like: "fat fucking garbage hauler is what I am".

“Sorry?” She ducks her head, leaning her ear to him, to get clarity.

“Nothing.” He mumbles.

She sees Al waddling out from the dugout on his way to them from the corner of her eyes. “Get your head in the game!” She barks, keeping her glove on her mouth.

He doesn’t even fight her.   “Yep.” He says, sounding dismal. Then, he sighs and scratches his beard. “Maybe I should pull out.” He says, keeping the glove over his mouth. “Let Duarte take over.”

Ginny’s stunned.

Something is seriously wrong with this picture.

She tosses the ball into her mitt, and covertly digs the fingernails of her throwing hand into her palm, letting the pin prick feelings do their job. 

_Nope, not a dream._

She never, ever imagined facing this situation up on the mound, in the middle of a neck-and-neck game, him with _that_ look on his face –  their roles weirdly reversed.

Ginny looks down - because -the last thing she wants is the cameras capturing her nonplussed expression. She realizes that she’s got about a minute before Al swaggers in. 

(As far as she was concerned – emotionally. She was still having trouble deciding whether Mike fits into the life of Ginny Baker, the player or the life of just Ginny, a regular person. He fits into both, is what she realizes during her calmer introspections. As a player, he’s her teammate, captain and one-time hero. But as a regular person – Ginny’s relieved to admit that he’s a friend.)

“Lawson.” She says. “We’re good, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He says, smiling at her wanly. “It’s not you, Baker, it’s me.”

“Look, I’d ask you if it was your knees, or your back, but I know it’s not that. Spill. Whats’ going on?”

He sighs. “All good.”

“C’mon, Old Man.” She says. “I know it’s personal and I really don’t want to know what you don’t wanna tell me. But...it’s messin’ with our game.”

Mike scrubs his face and sighs. “It’s this thing I have later. I – don’t wanna do it. But...I have to.”

“I’m not as good at giving speeches as you, Mike.” She says. “And, we don’t have much time, so…” She gestures for him to speed up with the bean-spilling. She casts a glance towards Al who – pure genius that he is – notes the look she throws him. He slows down his steps on purpose. Makes a big drama about catching his bad leg.

“I got a thing with my ex wife…” He says, sounding miserable.

Ginny jerks her head towards him.

 _Say whaaaa -?_ “Oh.” She says, evenly.

That dejected, crushed expression crosses his face.

“…and her fiancé.”  He adds.

Ginny’s completely flummoxed with the admission. She didn’t expect him to give in that easily.

(Also - of all the knee-related, back-related, retirement-related and job-security-related potential answers she expected - that wasn’t one of them.)

“Fuck.” She mutters.

“Yeah.” He raises his eyebrows like he's agreeing with her. “I just – I’m sorry Baker, I know. It’s dumb. I feel really stupid. Okay!” Mike looks up at the sky and barks out a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve been dealing with this for more than a year now,” He says. “And, I’m usually pretty good at handling this, it’s just…”

“What is it?” She asks, “The thing – I mean.”

“Our friends. Steven and Amy. They’re celebrating their tenth anniversary today. I can’t _not_ go, and Rachel can’t _not_ go. I was best man at his wedding and Rachel was the maid of honour…I’m godfather to their kids.”

 _Yikes_. “Oh Mike.” She says, sympathetically.

“I know…” He groans. “I’m being pathetic.”

“No, it’s not.” Ginny says, truthfully.

“She’ll be there, with her fiancé.” He says, grinding his teeth, looking at the umpire headed towards them. “This really..." He grimaces and snickers, acerbically, "... _great..._ kid heart doctor guy.” 

Ginny sighs.

“Any other scene, I’d call on one of my other ladyfriends, take her as my date, and flirt shamelessly, just to be an asshole.” He smirks.

“By ladyfriend you mean -”

“Groupie.” He says, sheepishly. “Yeah.” He sighs. “Some of them tend to be…” He whistles and twirls his finger around his forehead, indicating craziness.

Ginny hides her snicker when she sees the scowl on the second base runner’s face. He was peering at them, trying to figure out what they’re up to. He clearly takes Mike’s visible gesture as a personal affront.

“I’m not going to have some airhead embarrass my friends.” Mike says, groaning out as he stretches his upper body. “Not today.”

Him and Amelia have broken up, Ginny thinks. So, he can’t take her. She feels a tad bit guilty about that – but she’s also relieved. (The pressure of wondering what secrets Amelia would accidentally divulge if ever shit hit the fan again was not helping her.)

Ginny chews her lips glancing towards Al. She’s got, maybe, thirty seconds, between him and the umpire converging on them.

“So that’s it?" She asks. "You need a date?”

“No, that’s not _it_.” He bites out, visibly irritated. “I _don’t_ wanna go.” He sounds petulant.

She nods.

“I just can’t…! It’s just feels…weird." He exclaims. The frustration is evident in his voice. "She’s _happy_ with someone else. I hate seeing that!”

“It’s not stupid.” Ginny says. “Old Man!” She grabs his shoulder and shakes it. “It’s not stupid. Of course, it gets in your head! You’re entitled to feel.”

“You sound like a therapist.”

“Actually,” Ginny snorts, dropping her hand to brace her waist. “I sound like _my_ therapist.”

Mike’s face relaxes a little; he starts chuckling.

“What is going on?” Al drawls, waddling up. “Lawson, is it your knees? Do I need to pull ya?”

“No, he’s fine.” Ginny says, quickly. Mike shoots her a disapproving glower. “I read him wrong.” Ginny says, looking at Al.

“On all six balls?” Al looks at her like she’s being ludicrous.

Mike gives her a look.

“Skip, give us this inning.” She insists. “Please! We’ve got this.”

“Baker.” Mike sighs, he turns to Al – undoubtedly about to plead for an exit.

“Stop lollygagging and get your ass in the catcher’s box!” She commands fiercely.

Al looks impressed at her outburst, puts his hands up when Mike looks to him for support.

“Rookie.” Mike says, sternly. “ _I’m_ the captain, here. I give the orders.” Then he frowns and grimaces. “Lollygagging?”

“What?” She shrugs. “I know big words. I finished high school with a 4.0 GPA, Old Man!”

“Lollygagging.” He repeats, as though he’s trying to feel the word around in his mouth. “I like that word.” He says, nodding at Al, before he walks back to the catcher’s box.

She smiles and shakes her head.

Unfortunately, the home team scores two runs. 

 

 

“Hey!” She says, standing over him, while he shoves his batting gloves on. “I’ll come.”

He stops with the left glove, looks up at her, squinting when the sun hits his eyes.

“What?”

“To your dinner thing. I’ll be your date.”

“No.” He says, shaking his head.

She shrugs. “Look, it’ll be better than having some stranger there.”

“Nope.” He answers, adjusting his glove. 

“C’mon! I know it’ll suck.” She says, keeping her voice deliberately low. “But it might suck a little less if you’ve got a friend there.”

“Nope.”

“I owe you one.”

“You do?” He looks up, seems intrigued.

“Dinner with my mom…” She makes a pissy face, baring her teeth. “And _Kevin_.” She makes a funny gagging noise when she says Kevin’s name.

Mike’s moustache moves to one corner. She really hates that beard; she can never make out what his lips are up to. The look in his eyes, implies contemplation but it could also mean that he’s trying not to smile.

He hands her his right glove and reaches for something in his pocket.

Ginny smiles.

At least, the gum is out.

She takes some comfort in that.

 

 

He redeems himself at bat. Strikes one outside the park home run and helps the other two guys score two runs. It makes all the difference to their team morale.  

She uses that - and puppy dog eyes - to convince Al to let her pull off one more inning with Mike before he switches him out with Duarte.

Mike doesn’t verbally object but he looks unhappy about her trying to buffalo him around the game. She expects him to reprimand her as they walk up to the diamond.

He doesn't.

“So – they have two kids.” He says, surprising her. “The girl’s a big fan of yours. She’ll probably attach herself to your leg. Is that cool?”

“How old is she?”

“Six.”

“That’s cool.” Ginny says, trying to sound casual albeit the victorious feeling surging, inside.

“There will be two other couples there.  Amy’s sister and her husband. And the other couple, they are Rachel and Steve’s colleagues from work. They’re all actually closer to Rachel and…” He makes a bitter face when he says: “…the, the guy. As well.”

“Sounds like you’re outnumbered.” She comments.

He must understand the look on her face because he sighs. “Yeah, she got our friends in the divorce, too.”

Ginny winces at him, sympathetically.

“You really don’t have to do this, y’know.” He says. “It’s my problem.”

“Well, if Moms love you, kids love me.” She shrugs. “I’d say we’re even.”

For the first time that day that fetching, charming grin graces his face.

“Amy and Steve are big fans, too.” He says, sounding perkier. “I mean, I think, they’ll be happy if I brought anyone with a brain but – they’ll be really excited if you come. I might not even have to buy them a gift.”

She giggles. “So, I guess that means I’m coming?” She says, wondering why she's excited all of a sudden.

“Only ‘cause you stuck me with the bill at the whole Mom-Kevin thing.” He says, raising an eyebrow at her pointedly. The corners of his mouth widen and a good-natured smile lifts his cheekbones.

“Of course.”

“I mean, 'cause you owe me one.”

He looks so cute when he says that. It’s like when he overdoes the exercise reps at the gym because he doesn’t want to admit his stamina is lower than hers.

“Yeah, totally.” She says, smiling as they diverge, going to their respective boxes.

 

 

 

They send two hitters packing. The first one is a flyout – that lands in Mike’s glove in a brilliant duck and dive. Voorhies and Blip get the first base runner at the next pitch.

Mike jogs up to the mound as they wait for the next hitter.

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking hesitant. “Don’t you have some party to crash or commercial to shoot later?”

She shrugs.

“Not even a suburban pool to slam dunk in?” He says, cocking his head.

His hazel eyes twinkle - Ginny sucks in a breath (because well – yeah, it makes her feel ally girly and giggling when he looks at her like that.)

“Nope.” Ginny says, grinning. “Unless there’s thousand dollar dress you’d like me to ruin.” Then she frowns, when something occurs to her. “Hey!” She says. “What’s the dress code…?”

He huffs and shakes his head as he jogs back. “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I think it’s some level of formal.”

_Uh oh._

 

 

 

They’re leading 7 to 5.

“I uh…” She mutters as she sits beside him, nodding a ‘good luck’ at Salvamini as he goes to bat. “Have a problem.”

“It’s cool, Baker. I told ya. You don’t have to…” He starts to say.

“Clothing related.” She says, quickly.

“Excuse me?” He winces.

“Can you believe, I don’t have anything to wear? I didn’t have any commercial or PR commitments on this trip. I hate carrying extra luggage and I didn’t bring anything for a formal occasion.”

His facial expressions don’t help the situation.

“I’ll borrow something. To wear.” She says, “I’m sure Amelia can arrange…”

“Baker, you really don’t have to.” He sighs. “What I mean is...wear whatever you have.”

“All I got is regular clothes. Even my jeans are really lame. The only social thing I had planned involved pizza, beer and cheesy rom-coms with my friend Cara.”

He frowns at the mention of Cara’s name, shakes his head and opens his mouth. She cuts him off with a meaningful expression. “That was yesterday. Don’t worry. I’m not changing any plans for you. I’m free, tonight, okay?" She looks at him, reassuringly. "I’ll find something. It’ll be nice to wear something for a grownup party without having to worry about it being a publicity op.”

“Grownup party.” He snickers, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess it is. Don’t be so sure on the publicity though.” He snorts. “Steve is a PR exec. Nothing’s beneath him.” He scratches his beard.

Ginny shrugs her eyebrows.

“Listen,” He says. “If it’s that big a deal for ya – I know this lady, in downtown LA. It’s her private label. Her son and I played together in the minors. You tell her your size and she’ll come by to the hotel. I mean, I used to buy stuff from her all the time, for Rach…” He trails off – his face freezing.

Ginny feels her heart clench for him.

“You know what?” Ginny says, cheerfully. “What say we kick their sorry asses real quick and you take me to that store. I’ll even endorse the label – if it’s good.”

“That’ll really piss my ex off.” Mike says, looking uncertain.

Ginny notes how painful it for him to say Rachel’s name.

“She’s sort of prides in that store as her little secret.” He adds, looking away.

“Exactly.” Ginny smiles, smugly.

Mike looks confused and then narrows his eyes at her.

“Huh.” He snorts. “Who’d have thunk?”

“What?”

“Meano Ginny Baker.”

“I’m not a meano.” She makes a face.

“Oo -kay.” He says, tipping his head and chewing his gum like he doesn’t believe her.

His smiles are getting more frequent now.

 

 

They’re at the top of the ninth and the game is looking good.

“You want meano?” She gives a bratty smirk, tossing the powder bag around.  She points to the upcoming hitter. “I played with that guy in Texas.”

“Who? The new guy? Whatshisname?”

“Michelson. Kovak’s relief.” She nods. “He’s got a powerful swing, but he’s got a weak left foot. Gets real wobbly when he launches.”

“Yeah?” Mike says, glancing at him and then back at her. “How come you’re so sure?”

“I might have fractured a teensy weensy bone in his foot…” She says, trying to sound innocent, looking away. “…by mistake.”

“By mistake?” Mike looks at her suspiciously, chewing his gum. He’s starting to behave like the Mike she knows: Brash, hilarious – always trying to smile or make others smile.

She shrugs.

“What did you do?” Mike groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, making a visible effort not to grin.

“What?” She says, sounding a little screechy.  “He was a jerk!” She emphasizes. “He said the only balls I should be throwing are…” She shrugs.

Mike frowns, glances to her chest instantly and then looks away sheepishly.

“You get it.” She states.

“I get it.” He says, shaking his head at her.  “So, I’m thinking we’re getting him with sliders?”

“And a curve.” She says. “Just for fun.”

“Meano Baker.” He mutters.

“You should go now.” She says, nodding up at him.

He frowns.

“I mean, y’know.” She sasses. “People are gonna start talking.”

He leaves a warm, carefree laugh in his wake.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Blip and his big fat mouth.

 _“You’re going on a date with Mike Lawson?”_ Evelyn hisses over the _Skype_ feed.

“It’s not a date!” Ginny yells while showing her the dresses. “It’s just dinner.”

 _“With his friends. That’s not even a date – that’s what you do after you’re dating and you’re officially in a relationship. And let’s be clear –_ months _into a relationship.”_

“But, it’s not like that.”

_“Then why isn’t Amelia here? Helping you out?”_

“I haven’t told her. Look, Evie – I’ve finally negotiated some personal time to do things the way I want. If she hears I’m going to meet Rachel Patrick, she’ll hijack my entire wardrobe. Probably, make me wear a business suit.”

 _“Maybe the one with the jacket is nice.”_ Evelyn says, abruptly.

“Yeah, I like that one too. It’s simple.”

 _“So…”_  Evelyn says, sounding suspicious as Ginny strips down to try the dress with the jacket.  “ _He knows some fashion designer, who’s just willing to loan you pieces from her exclusive collection?”_

When Ginny shows her a purple dress, Evie squeals. _“Ooh girl! Lordy Lordy, that don’t sound like no casual dinner…!”_

“Mrs. Sebastiano, is a middle class seamstress with her own label.” Ginny says. “And I’m buying it. It’s not even hot cotooring.”

_“Haute couture.”_

“Whatever.”

 _“Well, I’ll be sure to pay Mrs. Sebastiano’s store a visit, the next time I’m there, Gin. I love all three.”_ She huffs out, like she’s fed up or pestering. “ _Okay. Fine! If you say it’s not a date…”_

“It’s not. Mike Lawson would never date me.” Ginny murmurs, checking the purple dress against her body.

_“You mean, you would never date Mike Lawson.”_

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

_“Actually I think the technical term is you two can’t date each other. Because you’re on the same team. Also because you’re the first female MLB player and y’know….the Trevor thing.”_

“Yeah.” Ginny says, turning around. It feels awkward, now that she really doesn’t care about all of that anymore. She finds it strange that her mind has space to think about new things: positive things.

 _“Okay. Fine!”_   Evelyn sighs. “ _What are we looking at here? How many people?”_

“Private dinner party at a house. His ex, her fiancé…”

_“Ouch.”_

“The hosts, two other couple friends.”  

_“Are we making Rachel jealous?”_

“No!” Ginny says. Then she pouts her lips, considering the idea.

_“Are you sure?”_

“Of, course I am..”

_“Mmhmm. At a dinner with old friends…?”_

“Do I want to make her jealous? For Mike’s sake. I mean – it looks like he’s still hung up on her.” Ginny sighs.

 _“Yeah.”_ Evelyn sounds sad.

Ginny frowns at Evelyn’s grainy video image on the screen. “How was she – like…you know in person? When they were married? You met her a couple of times.”

Evelyn clears her throat and says. _“Why don’t you wear the purple one? It’s really your colour. Doesn’t scream girlfriend, and doesn’t seem like you’re the friendzoned tagalong.”_

“I am the friendzoned tagalong.” Ginny says. “And - I’m cool with that. Makes me feel like a normal person. It’s nice to go for someone else’s thing and not have it be about me. Let me wear the purple and show you.”

She changes into the dress, preening in front of the mirror. She agrees with Evie. (But, maybe the dress is _too_ flattering? )

There’s a whistle from the other end. _“I love it!”_ Evie squeals.

Ginny smiles and twirls in her spot, checking to see if it flies up.

 _“Be careful of Rachel, okay.”_ Evelyn says, while Ginny’s busy checking for potential up-skirt problems. _“Blip isn’t kidding when he says that Mike loses his head around her.”_

Oh.

 _“I did not say that!”_ She hears Blip yelling. 

Seems like, he’s reached home.

 _“Damn!”_ Blip’s voice resounds louder. He appears in the video and kisses Evelyn’s head. _“Ginny, girl! You look fine!”_

“Thanks, how was the bus?”

_“Everyone’s pumped. When are you two getting back?”_

“We’ll drive down tonight, I think.” She shrugs.

 _“Y'all better decide on one of you being the designated_ driver." Blip says. " _Hey, Ginny! Hint. it’s not gonna be Mike.”_

“He says he doesn’t plan to drink. Says, his car’s too precious.”

 _“He always say that - and then he see his ex – an' hot_ damn!" Blip narrates in one breath. " _We have ourselves a screechy walking talking bearded totin’ jukebox, high on bourbon.”_

Ginny regards Blip's face on the viewport of her _Skype_ program. She's starting to think this whole plus-one thing isn't such a good idea.

“Too much boob?” Ginny says to Evelyn, distracting herself, leaning into the camera.

 _“Perfect boob.”_ Evelyn says.

 _“Okay, and I’m gone.”_ Blip makes a gross face and disappears.

“I feel like a grown up.” Ginny smiles. “Do you think I should wear that white jacket with this one?” Ginny asks, looking at the computer screen.

Ginny cannot make out if Evelyn’s scheming or frowning but she knows for a fact that, that look does not bode well.  _“Nah.”_ Evelyn says. _“Wear that lipstick, I bought you. And those dangly earrings.”_

“Won’t that be too dressy?”

 _“I think you_ both _could use a little dressy.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Mike’s waiting for her at the hotel lobby. Despite the hick beard, Ginny thinks that he looks spiffy in a semi-formals. He’s a tad leaner these days; having gotten into a serious fitness zone, determined not to go down without a fight.

He nods at her nervously and Ginny feels a twinge of disappointment that there’s no appreciation on the dress.

But, then again, this isn’t a date – she shouldn’t take his unaffected looks seriously.

(But, then again, she took some effort. She wore lipstick, for crying out loud!)

“Thanks for the…” She motions to her dress, as they wait on the valet to drive his car up.

He sighs and nods. “Yeah. Mrs. Sebastiano was only too happy when she heard you’d wear her clothes.”

“She’s a nice lady.” Ginny says.

“Her son was a great guy.”

“Was?”

“Died in a car accident, ten years ago. He was a pitcher, like you.” He says absentmindedly, as the car comes up.

A shiver runs down Ginny’s spine. Her feet seem like they’re stuck. She feels like something heavy is sitting on her chest.

“Baker?”

“Yeah.” She says, gathering herself and forcefully slowing her breathing. He’s standing at the driver’s side, looking at her expectantly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She says, wiling herself to move; her body cooperates, for once.

“I appreciate what you’re doing here, Rookie.” He says, as she walks around to the passenger side. “But – you really don’t have to. I’m sort of feeling better now, after the win. I can deal with it.”

“Mike, I’m fine.” She bites out. “I’m just – I’m uncomfortable in heels, okay.”

He looks at her like he doesn’t believe her, but he accepts her answer without complaint.

 

 

He’s so quiet in the car it’s creepy.  

He’s also driving at a million miles per hour. Ginny sucks in her breath, bracing the window and a point comes where she’s convinced she’s going to die. She squeezes her eyes shut as he turns at a curb.

It’s just about the time when her stomach starts to feel queasy, like on a roller coaster, that she hears him call to her. “Baker!”

“Yeah?” She says, pursing her mouth, keeping her eyes closed.

She feels the car slowing down and she breathes a sigh of relief; her eyes flutter open to find him, smirking at her.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was too fast for you?” He says, snorting the words out between small chuckles.

“Have we reached?”

“No.”

“Erm –“ She squawks. “You uh – were the driving the car, and I’ve learned better than to distract self-destructive lumberjacks who think they’re formula one racers."

"Lumberjack?" He echoes.

"Also, you’re the captain.”

He looks at her like she’s insane. She grins at him. He starts laughing straightaway and shakes his head. He sighs out and looks at the road. “I’m sorry,” He says. “I’m _just_ – I am not looking forward to this.”

“I understand.” She says and then sighs. “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

The whites of his eyes start glistening.

“Is that what Amelia was about?” She asks. “I’m sorry, it didn’t work out with her.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not. But only ‘cause it was getting weird.”

“I don’t blame you, Baker.”

Ginny sighs. “Y’know what? forget I asked.”

He looks away.

“Yeah. Yes.” He chokes out. “I’m still in love with her.”


	2. Chapter 2

“That sucks.”

Two simple words. It feels like a balm applied on a smouldering wound.

Mike turns to look at his rookie.

There’s pity – sure (– that’s what he’s hated the most about his ordeal with Rachel: the pity). But, pity in Ginny’s eyes isn’t regular pity. It feels like - solidarity. He feels like, there’s someone on his side. Like, she understands that there is  _really_  no solution for the mindfuck he’s trapped in.

(That suffocating feeling in his chest eases; the clamminess in his hands abates.)

“Yeah, it does.” He says, finding that he can say it without sounding like some sort of lovesick moron.

He shifts the gear and starts to drive. She looked like she was having some sort of heart attack when he was driving earlier . Now, he makes a conscious effort to drive slower.  

“Do you want her back?” She asks, after a long and not-uncomfortable silence.

A few months ago, she wouldn’t have been so direct with him. She was fighting her own battles, always skittish, constantly building that iron wall around herself, constantly trying not to say the wrong things or act the wrong way.  Lately, she’s being growing into herself. She’s more confident, more in control. And it’s reflecting on the field. He’s discovering her wry, intelligent humour. He’s discovering a hidden leader within her. He’s seen displays of unselfishness from her that surprise him. She’s loyal, intuitive, and kind (despite how much crap she deals with on a daily basis).

It does not escape him that he almost missed the chance to be privy to that.  

There’s no point in playing mindgames with her, now that they’re settling back into what is a definable friendship. He’s not going to take that for granted. He’s not ashamed to admit weakness to her.

But.

If he looks at her, he might fall apart. So, he won’t lie -  but, he won’t look at her.

So – “Yes.” He says.

There’s that comfortable silence, again for a while.

She sighs and bends in her seat. It looks like she’s scratching her ankle at first, but then he sees those shapely calves appear. She pulls her legs up and shimmies back into the groove of the seat and it looks like…

“Baker, are you putting your sweaty feet on my leather interiors?” He barks.

She looked at him like startled puppy. Wide eyes, puffed cheeks and lips in a sheepish line.

“Erm.” She speaks, tentatively. “No?”  She says, like she’s testing if that’s the correct answer.

Which it would be, if he didn’t see her long feet appear.

It’s so hilarious that it's an effort keep the sternness in his voice and an angry scowl on his face. “What the hell are those size tens doing on my seat, then?”

“I’m a size nine.” She asserts, folding her arms and pouting her lips grumpily. She shamelessly places the bare soles of her feet against the edge of the seat. She seems more comfortable like that, crouched in a seated fetal posture. The hem of the dress rides down to her upper thigh and he’s greeted with the sight of her long, toned, muscular legs.

He looks away.

“My shoes are itchy.” Comes a sulky explanation.

Yeah, he’s noticed she doesn’t like wearing high heels. At any given time of the day, she’s only comfortable in sneakers. He appreciates that she willingly steps out of her comfort zone for his sake.

So, maybe he’ll let her keep her sweaty feet up on the leather seat. She earned it.

 

 

 

“So what’s the deal?” She asks, leaning forward and turning on the radio. “You’re not friends with these people any more?”

Garth Brooks croons through the car speakers.

“No.” He sighs, reaching forward to switch the channel to Jazz Radio. “It’s not that we’ve stopped being friends. It’s just – it’s too interconnected. They were our couple friends.”

(Their realtor had been Mike and Rachel’s realtor. They went to the same clubs, they hung out at the same dinner parties. Mike and Rachel sat with Steve while they took Amy into an emergency C-section.

In the early days of his career, Mike had been there and done it all as far as ‘friendships’ were concerned. The clichéd consequences of fame – or whatever. Even as his circle of trusted people narrowed with the years, Steve and Amy remained a constant for him. But, when he moved back to San Diego and he might have involuntarily drifted away.

That’s why he’s happy for Ginny. That her circle of reliable people is expanding. That she’s finally attempting to _live_ her life. That she’s _attempting_ to enjoy this amazing situation and position she's in. An All-star, first female major leaguer, America's sweetheart.

He hopes she can have it all one day: the personal and professional happiness she deserves.

A stab of pain hits him in the gut.

Who’s he kidding?

He knows first hand, you can’t have it all. His failed marriage was proof of that.

And now he was going to have to deal with it all face to face. The memories, the loss, _the guy_ kissing Rachel’s hand…maybe more. A reminder of what a failure he’s been.)

“Oh I get it.” Ginny mumbles blankly, drawing his attention. She’s looking out the window. “No, actually I don’t get it." She says, after a pause. "I’ve never had couple friends. Blip and Evie don’t count.”

“Yeah, you’re practically their oldest child.” He quips, repeating a comment that Blip had made.

“Okay, you don’t get to diss me….” She says, sounding bratty. “ _And_ force me to listen to this godawful jazz shit.” She says. She jabs the button, and beams when Katy Perry comes on.

“C’mon Baker!” He whines. “Not that!”

“Aww man!” She whoops. “That was my pump up song, back in the day.”

And lo and behold – Ginner Baker goes into dork mode.

At least, she has a tolerable voice.

She’s also ten different kinds of adorable.

Suddenly, meeting old friends doesn’t seem like the end of the world anymore.

(Also, after she’s done dancing in her seat and shrieking in ear-shredding tones, they spend a good ten minutes alternatively changing the channels, until she starts to smack his hand every time he reaches for the radio.

It turns into an ultimate hand-swatting battle until they call a truce on some mellow, unobtrusive instrumental music.)

 

 

It’s just – it gets too into his head.

Steve worked for the same network as Rachel. Amy introduced Rachel to _the guy_. A man he will simply know as Dr. Assholewhofuckedmywife.

(What if Mike had been at that fundraiser when Amy introduced them? Would the guy have dared to chat up his wife? What if he hadn’t been out on the road? Would Rachel have befriended him? What if he’d been home more? What if he hadn’t been so insistent on being a _Padre_? What if he had made the move to the _Dodgers_ , just to make it easier on them?

What if. What if. What if.

Even now, those questions do not stop tormenting him.)

He flinches when a warm pair of fingers touch the shell of his ear.

“Cheer up, Old Man!” She says, tugging at his ear.

He looks at her. Her smile is bright, but her eyes reflect the sad sympathy she feels for him.

“You should learn golf, y’know.” She suggests.

“I know _how_ to play golf.” He says, turning his attention back to the road.

“You do? But the other day you…”

“I meant I don’t play – as a habit. I never said I didn’t know how.”

He swats her hand away from his ear when she tugs at it again.

(The third time he swats her hand, he feels a stupid grin on his face.)

 

 

“You look, really nice, by the way.” He says, glancing at her appreciatively. “I’m sorry, I didn’t say it earlier.”

The image of her bare back from the photoshoot comes to mind. He blinks and shoves it into the compartment of his brain that’s labelled ‘do not go there’. Exactly where he puts the feelings he gets every time he glances at her propped up bare legs.

“Thank you.” She pipes cheerily.

“Wow, you’re taking a compliment without a fight.” He remarks.

 “It’s my new thing.” She says. “Living in the moment. Cara says I take my self too seriously.”

“I like the sound of your friend.” He grins, glancing at her. “She sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to hang with someone my age, who isn’t some sweaty baseballer trying to sneak a peak at me in the shower after a game.”

“I don’t sneak a peek.” He says, trying to sound even.

“ _My age_ , being the operative word.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Mike says, grinning at her. “Sure, you’re a couple of years older than I am but I’m not against older women.”

She shakes her head at him, puffing her cheeks in a goofy smile that only last for so long before gurgles of laughter peal out. Mike feels warmth cover his cheeks at the sound of her laughter.

“So, is she single?” Mike teases.

“Never asked. Maybe I should find out.”

“Why ? You planning on settin’ us up?”

“Yeah, age wise, she kinda does fall into the demographic of the girls you prefer.” She snarks.

“Har har.” He mutters.

“Actually,” she says, pouting her lips. “I was thinking of asking her out, myself. Y’know?”

He snaps his head at her, eyes wide. “What? I thought you weren’t a…”

“Maybe, I’m questioning.” She looks at him, with a look that is so obviously wide-eyed, it’s obvious she’s feigning innocence. Her voice drops to a tantalizing tone added. “Y’know…? Maybe I should be stretching myself out…a little?”

Mike nearly fucking crashes the car when an image pops in his head – “Okay.” He gulps. His collar feels to tight, beard feels a little sweaty.

When she bursts into laughter, he joins her with a nervous one of his own.

“Oh my god!” She says, still hooting, holding her belly. “You should see your face right now!”

He can’t stop shaking his head and grinning idiotically at her. (For once – it’s not the other way around. For once, the responsibility to lighten the mood, or cut the tension or melt the ice or whatever is not his. For once, he doesn’t have to crack the jokes. He’s surprised how relieved he is about that.)

She makes him laugh so easily.

 

 

As they draw closer to Beverly Hills, he deliberately slows the speed. Something about merely hanging out with her just feels nice, and natural. He doesn’t want to go for the party (– but for different reasons this time). He doesn’t want to go because he’d rather spend the evening with her.

“Wow, nice…cribs.” She says, sounding impressed, looking out the window at the mansions as they drive through the streets of his neighborhood.   

Mike always likes how the shape of her mouth when she makes that facial expression; corners turning down, little dimples by the side.

“Hey.” He says. “When are you gonna move out of that hotel, and get your own place?”

“Ugh.” She balks. “I’ve never stayed in one place for longer than six months in the last….” She pouts, pensively. “Three - maybe four - years?”

“So, maybe it’s time to put down roots.” He says.

“Mmhmm.”

“Hey, do you wanna see where I lived?”

“No way!” She says, “You have a house here?” looking more childlike and more excited than he expected her to be.

“Technically, I _used_ to have a house here – and now I don’t, because I didn’t have a pre-nup.” He shrugs. Somehow, the bite associated with that thought feels less intense now.  

“Yeah!” She says.

“You’ve never been to my place at San Diego.” He remarks, realizing it just then. “Have you?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“You never invited me.”

“Then consider this an invitation then. I have a really cool house. With a pool table. And a pool.”

“Yeah, I saw pictures in Architectural Digest of it once. It was too…” She makes a face. “Glassy.”

“Yeah, it’s classy.”

“Glassy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Classy.”

“Guh – guh” She says, looking laughably stupid when she enunciates. “Glassy.”

He heard it the first time, but he’s just having too much fun at her expense. He makes an innocent face and repeats. “Classy, sure.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re messin’ with me.”

“Yup.”

He sneers at her. She pouts in response.

He sighs when they come up on the house.

(Mike remembers this happy feeling that he used to have, every time he drove up to that house. Of late, he’s only seen it twice – and that happy feeling wasn’t there. There was just loss, and grief.)

She whistles when he points it out to her. (Like a boy. Eerily, it turns him on.)

Mike shakes his head and says. “Yeah.”

“Old Man, that be some fine real estate, you got there.”

“It has a pool.” He says, chuckling. That heavy thing in his chest feels lighter now. “Hey! You wanna slam dunk in it, later?”

(He’s joking, but once he says about it, he doesn’t think it’s entirely a bad idea.)

“What’s your ex-wife gonna think?” She says, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She drops her forehead in her hand, holding back her chuckles.

“I think she’s gonna be mighty pissed.” He snorts.

“That’d be just a bonus then, huh?” She winks at him, twisting the corner of her mouth.

(Dammit – she’s just _way_ too good looking to be this witty and adorable at the same time.)

“Damn straight.” He sighs.

“Damn straight.” She nods, almost like she’s saying an ‘amen’.

She looks at it and then speaks. “I’m game if you are.” She shrugs. “I don’t think Ginny Baker, trespassing on Rachel Patrick’s property to slam dunk in her pool, in a handmade dress is gonna be _that_ big a deal.”

He starts the car as he imagines the scene, guffawing at the idea.

(Yeah, yes. He will get through this evening after all.)

 

 

“Oh crap.” He mutters. “They’re already here.”

“I’m thinking that car used to be yours too.” She remarks, following his gaze to the beautiful, sleek convertible he’d gifted to Rachel  more than a year ago – just before he found out about the affair.

“I mean, _now -_  it’s not.” She nods, at him. “Because of the pre-nup?”

(Somehow, she simply rattles out these touchy statements and they don’t even hurt. They’re contrarily funny. He’s underestimated her sense of humour.

Maybe – it’s been hiding there, all along, under all that stress and pressure.)

Out of habit more than anything else, he gets out and goes around to her side, opening her door, while she’s fidgeting with her seat belt.

“Don’t do that!” She says, looking down at lock of the seatbelt, jangling at it. “It feels weird.”

“Do what?”

“Do the whole coming around the car and opening the door. That’s subliminally sexist!”

“Subliminally sexist?” He snorts.

“It’s like you guys think we don’t know how to open a car door!” She exclaims, feistily. “I know how to open the damned door!”

A ripple of laughter knocks at his diaphragm.

(She’s going to be the death of him. And. He’s going to die with a permanent grin stuck on his face.)

“It’s called…” He says, curbing his laughter. “…being a gentleman?”

“You slapped my ass on my first day at the job!” She says, voice all pitchy, waving her hand out emphatically. “You ain’t got a gentlemanly bone in yo’ body, Old Man!”

“Yeah, ‘cause I was treating you like one of the guys!” He protests, sticking his tongue to his teeth, in an attempt to look serious. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

She tilts her head to the side, looks at him with a deadpan expression. Mike has come to associate that look as her way of saying ‘Seriously?’

“Admit it.” He teases, keeping a straight face. He tips his chin up at her. “You love the ass-slapping.”

She spurts with laughter, grimacing and shaking her head. “I do not.”

“Okay!” He chortles unable to hold it in anymore and then knocks her arm playfully. “Get out, already.”

“Oh yeah!” She says, like something’s just occurred to her. “About that. I uh - can’t…I think it’s stuck.”

“Oh.” He says, ducking into the car, bending over, wincing as his back creaks. “Yeah, the button’s magnetic. I’ll get it.”

A sharp, audible gasp hits his ear when his arm brushes against the swell of her breasts. Her face freezes and the humour is gone. Mike tries his level best, _not_ to look at that cleavage, or how good her tits look in that dress or how lovely her shiny dark, curly, hair are, or how much prettier she is, up close.

(He doesn’t want to cross that line – even as an errant musing. The last time he did - Amelia happened.)

The only way he sees to squash the awkwardness is by making a joke of it. “Gonna boob graze, a bit here, Baker.” He says, nervously as he reaches his hand towards the clasp. “Don’t sue me for sexism, okay?”

He grunts and releases the seat belt. He draws away from her as it automatically slides open. Her breathing sounds a little frantic at first – and in the small space of the passenger area of the car, it sounds louder than it should be; but, it eases. 

(She smells like fruity mix of shampoo, perfume and her own distinctive scent.) He grunts and retreats. He’s half-way out the car, when his back spasms. He curses loudly, gripping his back, groaning and grimacing.

“Looks like you’ve strained your back, Old Man.” She remarks. “Don’t sue me for ageism, okay?”

When he looks at her, she’s smiling at him, dimples shining, that close-lipped mischievous smile held back on its intensity. 

Her face is just inches away from his. If he touches her thigh, he’ll be able to feel that smooth bronze skin exposed beneath the hem of her dress. (If he just moves his head forward a bit, would she meet him half way?) He drops a glance at her mouth. The smile is gone now. Her lips are just a teensy bit parted. They’re full and smeared with half-eaten lipstick. Mike wonders if she's aware that she chews her lips a lot.

They’re pretty lips. Kissable lips.

“Mike!”

_Shit._

Stevie’s voice snaps him out of it.

Whatever _it_ is.

Ginny wrenches back with a little gasp and he jerks up unwittingly, smacking the back of his head on the roof of the car.  

“Fuck!” He grimaces and pulls out, straightening himself up, scrubbing the sort spot on the back of his head.

The first thing he sees when he looks up – it paralyses him - he’s completely numb and the bump in his head doesn’t feel so sore any more.

Rachel and Dr. Assholewhofuckedmywife – at the open door to Steven's house.

(It always feels like he’s walking around with a knife stuck to his chest, and every time he sees Rachel, it's like someone twists it, just that much. Not enough to kill him – but only enough for it to feel like it will.)

She wears her usual resigned disapproving expression. _(You’re late. You didn’t call. I waited for hours. I can’t believe you brought some groupie to a family event!_ )

She also looks lovely.

Steven and Amy are standing at the driveway closer to him, peering into his car, trying to get a glimpse of his companion.

Stevie must note the look on his face, because he glances back at Rachel. He looks a little freaked out for a bit and then drawls, loudly. “Buddy, you promised you were gonna bring girls who are at least old enough to operate a seatbelt!”

“Oh! I like him, already!” Ginny mumbles, sniggering as she swings her long legs out, straightening her dress.

Amy smacks her husband’s arm. “Hush! She can hear you!”

(Mike isn’t exactly sure at that point with Ginny in his car, and Rachel standing all the way there, which ‘she’ Amy’s implying, but – semantics, whatever.)

Ginny must notice the look on his face, too. He looks down at her, sees that she’s peeking between the V-shaped space of the open door and the body of the car and suddenly, ducks away down.

“Is that him?” She hisses. “The guy standing with her?”

He doesn’t reply. He just wants to get in the car and drive away.

A warm hand clasps his, hidden behind the security of an open car door. “Mike?” Ginny asks, softly, concern clouding her voice. Mike closes his eyes and lets that warmth flood into his body. It all penetrates through his haze.

Suddenly, his head starts to throb something fierce and he starts rubbing the spot.

“Yeah, Rookie.” He says, softly, squeezing her hand once, rubbing his thumb over the calluses between her index and middle fingers, clearing his throat. “It’s all good! C'mon.”

He walks up to Steven and Amy; hugs them both. He’s about to wish them on their anniversary but they’re busy peering over his shoulder in Ginny’s direction. He’s surprised they haven’t made a comment about her yet.

He looks back, thinking that they maybe they didn’t catch a proper look at her face, or…

…ass?

He blinks.

Like – it’s just right there. Her ass. Wiggling in his line of sight.  The front half of her body is inside the car – like she’s looking for something.

Perfect pear shaped -  was no under-assessment.

“Baker!” He barks, irritated (– because yeah, there’s too many strange emotions, now).  

“Yea-p!” She calls back, the skirt of her dress riding way too high as she bends into the car. “Can’t find my shoes!”

 _Can’t find her…?_ “You’re kidding me?” He hollers, turning around in his spot. “What’re you? Twelve? Quit lollygagging!”

God, this girl – she can sniff out a weakness in a hitter, standing sixty feet, enough to shake off his calls. But, she doesn’t have the sense to find her shoes before she got out of the car. Mike doesn’t know if he’s allowed to laugh – he sure feels like it.

(He’s almost tempted to smack her ass, the way she’s sticking it out like that – just for fun. His palm itches, he clenches it and shoves it in his pocket.)

She emerges with shoes hooked on a finger and an exasperated huff that’s meant for him.

“No! I’m not twelve!” She answers back, with that bratty expression on her face, that he just can’t resist smirking at. She even slams the door shut, like she’s trying to reiterate her point. And then - she _literally_ tip-toes her way over the gravel, smiling at the couple beside him, waving at them as she jogs up.

“Geez Baker! At least have the sense to wear your shoes first.” He says, between chuckles.

(A real clown – that one, padding around barefoot – an adorable one with pretty eyes and full mouth that he likes to think about.

But, he’s not ready to go there yet.)

Her reply is a cheeky megawatt smile that magically hits him below the belt.  She slips on one shoe; a quaint delicateness to the action. Mike feels a little flutter in his chest that he ignores by stepping forward to steady her by the arm as she hops into the other one. By the time she rises to her full height, rolling out her shoulders, she’s an inch taller than him.

She starts to giggle, like the foolishness of her actions is catching up.

“There’s an eight-year-old back in that house whose got more maturity than you.” He chides gently.

“Sorry,” She throws a glance back at his friends. “I’m not used to anything other than sneakers or cleats.” She smiles at them and then turns to him. “FYI.” She says, accusatorily, jabbing her free finger at his chest. “You totally stole my word, Old Man.”

(‘Lollygagging’? Yes, he totally did.) He grimaces when she says ‘Old Man’, half-expecting Steve to double over and give him hell on the nickname. But, when he turns around, he finds both husband and wife gaping with wide eyes and half open mouths - at Ginny.

Ginny seems to comprehend their surprise. She shrugs with a sweet smile, steps around him, sticking her hand out. “Hi! I’m Gi-!”

“Ginny Baker.” Amy snaps out of her trance first.

Mike glances towards Rachel. Her face is blank, but then changing – like it is dawning on her.

“Yeah…” Ginny says, exchanging a glance with him. “Erm…nice to meet…”

To say that the shrill, eardrum shattering – headache inducing – and 911 worthy squeal that erupted, bang next to his ear was an indication that his friends finally recognized his companion would probably be redundant.

 

 

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

Amy’s jumping up and down shrieking and Stevie’s just – well, Stevie’s still in gape mode. Mike throws a glance and catches Rachel’s eye roll. Dr. Assholewhofuckedmywife looks impressed.

The instant Amy’s shrieking starts, his feisty, wisecracking rookie, transforms into that calm, public face of Ginny Baker™. Her face is eerily calm, her smile is there, but not quite as wide.

Then, Amy screeches and bounds up to hug Ginny.

Mike reaches out a hand to the back of Ginny’s waist to stop her as she stumbles under Amy’s launching weight.

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

“Okay!” Ginny laughs and looks at him with wide eyes. He shrugs and smiles knowingly.

“Hi!” She squeaks out as Amy hugs her in a death grip. “I take it you’re a fan?”

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

Ginny looks like she’s close to suffocation.

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

“Hey! Amy, get off her!” Mike chides. “I need my Rookie alive, okay? We’re not done with the season yet.”

Steven finally snaps out of it. He has a stupefied smile and he claps Mike on his shoulder, opening his mouth to say something, but clearly unable to form words.

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!” Continues.

“Okay, let her breathe, alright, Ames?” Steve says, pulling at his wife. He smiles and Ginny and shakes her hand.

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

“Happy Anniversary.” Ginny says, in her uncertain voice, wincing.

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

“Yeah!” Mike says, looking at Amy’s rapturous face and back at Steve. “I’m sorry, I forgot to wish you guys above all the…”

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

“…that.” He says, flailing his hand out at Amy, pointedly.

He glimpses at Rachel. She’s smiling affectionately at Amy and shaking her head. For once, that knife doesn’t twist; he can manages a proper smile.

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

Ginny notices her too. She winces and gives a small wave to Rachel.

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

Rachel nods at Ginny in response, but Mike notices an unfamiliar coldness in her eyes.

“Breathe, babe.” Steve says, hugging his wife’s shoulders.

Amy’s just a litany of whispers now. “Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

“Okay.” Mike claps his hands and rubs them. “Introduction time! Ginny Baker, this is Steven…Steve, Stevie…Stevie-boy….” Steven nods. “And…”

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”

“And Amy-Beth…Richards.” He says. “ _And_ she’s officially crazy.”

“Ohmigod.” Amy squeaks. “Ginny Baker thinks I’m crazy. I love this!”

Ginny’s smile fades and she looks at Mike. He scratches his beard, and throws his palms up.

“What she means to say is.” Steven says, hurriedly, throwing a disciplinary look down at his wife. “We’re really happy to have you here! We totally didn’t expect this when Mikey said he had a surprise for us. My daughter worships you.” He looks at his wife and makes a blank face. “My wife…she…well…I think ‘duh’, is an appropriate word.”

Amy – thank goodness – had finally quieted down.

“Babe?” Amy says, in a hoarse voice, looking up at Steven. “Best anniversary ever. I’m sorry, I mean it. Even better than our first.”

Steven looks offended.

Amy looks at Ginny and whispers loudly. “We made our first child…at that one. Twelve hours of marathon sex. Twenty-six orgasms.”

Ginny opens her mouth, looking at Amy in mortified and nodding her head.

She looks at him helplessly.

He drops his head in his hands. There’s really – _nothing_. Nothing, that he can say that would make Amy seem less like a creepy crazy person and more like the tough, no-nonsense litigator that she’s supposed to be.

“Okay, we wished them” He says, as they walk to the front door, tagging behind Steven and Amy. “Just say the word.” He mutters. “And we’ll make a run for it.”

“Are you kidding?” She says. “This is exciting!”

He looks at her in disbelief. She’s grinning wide – looking genuinely happy. “Mike, these are your friends.” She says. “And they’re _my_ fans.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be harping about that all season, aren’t ya?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re gonna be shaking my friends down for dirt on me, aren’t you?”

“Definitely.”

“This is gonna be a long night.”

“I hope so.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you've been such loverly reviewers I've decided that I shall combine two chapters as a special gift.

During one of their girl’s nights, the Professor Honoris Causa via University of Too Much fuckin’ Vodka and not enough Bloody Mary mix – a.k.a. Evelyn Sanders - had given her a primer course on _‘how to support the friend who was left behind in the divorce’_. Which specifically, as per Prof. Sanders - is _not_ the same as ‘ _how to support divorced friends’._

The rules, as Ginny recalled were:

a) If they hate the spouse, you hate the spouse.

b) If they’re still in love with the spouse, you diss the spouse till they learn to hate the spouse.

c) if they’re thinkin’ of getting back together with said spouse or tryin’ to win ‘em back…you are not allowed to hate the spouse. Even if you hate that backstabbin’ toxic douchebag spouse with every inch of ugliness in yo’ heart, you _pretend_ like you like the spouse but whatever you do, do not let on that you hate the spouse.

d) if the spouse has moved on, and you are not allowed to hate the spouse because of clause c, you most definitely _must_ hate the partner of the spouse – because you gotta hate somebody.

 

So -  since, Mike fell into category c, and d - Ginny Baker, who cannot hate Rachel Patrick – on principle – ergo…hates the fiancé. On principle.

( _Also, there’s the Mom and Kevin thing – but let’s not complicate matters_.)

As far as Rachel Patrick by herself is concerned, Ginny has no opinion either way.

There’s no doubt that Mike still loves her. That longing pain, when they greet Rachel, is so poorly hidden by that monstrosity of a beard, that Ginny feels something breaking inside her own chest. And - if Steven and Amy’s pitiful expressions are any indication, Ginny’s not the only one who thinks so.

(She almost thinks to take up his suggestion to make a break for it. Just to spare him the trauma.)

Rachel Patrick is unarguably a beautiful woman. The last time, they met, Ginny was fubared under mindboggling stress and entirely consumed with her own problems to appreciate her appearance. (The team’s disharmony, Al’s stupid statements, Amelia undermining her and not to forget _the_ Rachel Patrick cornering her and singling her out with the responsibility of standing up for their gender).

The pearly alabaster skin, lovely strawberry blonde hair, gorgeous baby green eyes, deceptively childish, pixie perfect face and that soft sweet voice. Is it really a wonder that Mike was head over heels in love with her?

Rachel, on her part -  gives Ginny a cold smile, looking at her with a lot less respect, than she had at their last encounter. After, a perfunctory ‘Hi’, she spins on her heels, taking off after Steven and Amy, making some excuse about helping, leaving Ginny thinking what might have transpired for her to end things with Mike.

That leaves Ginny, Mike and the to-be-hated-on-principle fiancé at the door.

Mike plasters on a smile, that’s a little too friendly in Ginny’s estimation. “Dave.” He says, grinding his teeth. “Good to see you, buddy!”

(Ginny resists the urge to roll her eyes. Like – could he _be_ any more obvious with his resentment?)

“Dav _id_.” The other man corrects. Ginny sees the subtle clench in the guy’s jaw. (Okay. He was handsome. With very kind – doctorly eyes. He had very self-confident aura, in a refined – not brash way.)

So maybe not… _hate_. Maybe a permanent dislike.

(And then he opens his mouth.

_Whoo lordy!)_

“Ginny Baker.” He says in that crisp, soft, polished, accented voice. “What an honour.”

Suddenly, Ginny’s all blushy and giggly around him. (If Evie were here right now, they’d be doing a solid re-think on them rules, that’s for sure.)

“Pleasure’s mine.” She says, smiling wide.

“Good to see you again, Mike.” Dav _id_ nods, at the snuffaluffagus beside her who somehow manages to continue pulling-off the fakest smile she’s seen.

(She’s still got her hand clasped in his warm handshake and she’s really not feeling like the hatin’ principle now, that’s for sure.)

“Shall we?” David says, stepping aside gesturing for her to go in.

She shrugs and pulls her hand back, twirling her hair and pushing it back against her ear. Mike’s probably noticed how flighty she’s acting. His smile is slowly inverting into a frown.

“Uh – you first.” Ginny says, smiling shyly.

“I never go before a lady.” David says.

To which, Mike makes a high-pitched snorting noise.

“No, I insist.” She says, politely.

“But I insist more.” He says, in that dreamy accent.

Mike makes that noise again, to which she unobtrusively snaps her elbow, hitting his arm. He doesn’t take the hint. He’s just unabashedly leaning against the door-frame, with his arms folded, those furrows deepening on his forehead, glowering at her like she’s sold all their secret plays to some rival team.

“No…” She says, her voice a little too squeaky. “Really…”

“Yeah, Baker doesn’t do that.” Mike cuts in, making no attempt to hide his irritation. “Chivalry, I mean? so maybe…we can move this Downton Abbey thing along?”

(He might as well be blowing steam from his ears and nostrils like an Acme cartoon.) Ginny pulls her lips in an unsmiling grimace and looks at him.  _Downton Abbey?_ She mouths.

Mike widens his eyes mocking innocence.

(The man is incorrigible! Also.  _Kinda_ cute when he’s all riled up.)

David acquiesces with a smile that –(yeah, that’s probably the thing that has Mike all riled up. The smile that probably stole his wife away. It’s no Mike Lawson grin…but whatever.)

 

“Damn, he fine.” She mutters watching David’s retreating rear end. Mike shoots her an unhappy look. 

“What?” She asks, feigning innocence. “I’m being a good wingman. Y’know, sizing up the competition and all that?”

“Wingman, really?” He exaggerates surprise.  “Is that what that was?” He hisses. “You were this close…” He makes a pincer gesture with hardly any space between index and thumb. “To asking for a _breast_ exam!”

She cocks her head in the direction of the suave heart doctor. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing though, would it?” She says, pouting pensively.

She giggles out when Mike breaks into a wide sneer, nodding his head as if to say, ‘ha ha, real smooth’ and then grabs her elbow and leads her in. (There’s nothing forcefully about his grasp, and Ginny likes the feeling of his thick fingers wrapped around her arm.) He’s peeved – sure, but she’s sure there’s a frustrated little smile she sees under that beard.

(There’s another thing, though.) As they step in, she spots a flash of a red mane toss out at the end of the foyer and disappear.

Ginny’s not seen the other women, but she’s certain that Rachel’s hair matches that unique shade of red.

 

 

The Richards house is a spacious, well-lit two-storey Californian-style manor, that feels like she’s walking into some sort of modern architect’s dream. Ginny fidgets when she realizes that this is in fact is a very grown up party. It is intimate and pretty sedate compared to the bass-blasting events she’s been going to.

(It’s also freaking her out - because - she feels like she’s the new girlfriend being introduced to the old friends.) Ginny takes a deep breath to calm herself down and decides this is no different from any other public event, and she treats like it’s a baseball game. She regroups herself by gauging each member of the group, like she does when she’s facing a new hitter.

Lori - Amy’s sister who doesn’t look anything like her, is a former lawyer who now works in publishing. She reminds Ginny of the cliquey girls in high school who used to laugh behind her back for playing with the boys. Ginny doesn’t miss that she follows Mike’s movements with an angry stare. Ginny also didn't miss the cocky half-assed smile Mike threw at her when introductions were made; so, she knows there’s some history there – probably nookie related. And, Ginny doesn’t want to dwell on that.

Interestingly, she seems quite close to Rachel.

Lori’s husband - Sam, works in advertising. He looks at Mike warily but without malice. It’s kind of obvious that he’s a Mike Lawson fan. He’s more ecstatic about meeting him than he is about meeting Ginny. Ginny decides she likes him.

The other couple were Steven and Rachel’s colleagues. Andy, the husband, looked couple of years older than Mike. He’s some showrunner-slash-executive producer on some huge sports talk show that she doesn’t really watch. Though she can’t place Andy’s face, she knows they’ve met in the past. Him and Mike seem to be good friends.

The wife, Cassie, is clearly close to Rachel and reminds her of a brunette Amelia in her appearance with her long sleek hair and her slender, tall frame. She keeps throwing glaringly obvious looks of solidarity at Rachel, as though Mike has committed some unthinkable crime by bringing Ginny. (As though, she assumes that Ginny and him are sleeping together.)

Once Amy-Beth’s (or Amy as she’s called) shrieking and spazzing out had chilled, Ginny realizes that they’re a reverse Blip and Evie. Steven makes the calls, in a loving and subtle manner. Amy was a quieter, more discreet, simpler person – not fitting into Ginny’s idea of a typical female lawyer (but then again, Ginny’s opinions were based off all the legal dramas she saw. So, there’s that.)

There was no doubt that they were _that_ couple. The one that everyone wants to be ten years down the line. 

She knows that Steven is a high ranking PR exec at Rachel's network and learns that him and Mike have been buddies forever. Amy, is a senior legal counsel for a major fundraising organization and obviously close to both Rachel and David. She has a clear a sisterly affection to Mike, but it pales in comparison to how supportive she seems of Rachel and David. She spends a good five minutes singing David's praises to Ginny during the formal introductions.

They are the only outliers in this group - Rachel and David are engaged, Steven and Amy are celebrating their tenth, and the other two are also married couples. Given, the general aloofness of all the men in deference to their wives, Ginny’s earlier estimation wasn’t wrong.

Mike is outnumbered in this group.

David is affable enough, and hangs away in a corner, while introductions are made, probably giving company to Rachel. Rachel and David are not a very in-your-face couple, but it’s obvious how smitten he is with Mike’s ex. He doesn’t shy away from subtle displays of affection. 

For which, Mike – has his game face on; it only steels up every time he spots Rachel and David.

But.

Ginny sees all the stress-markers. The hard look in his eyes, the firmness of his lips, the clenching of his jaw, the forehead lines that appear and disappear with his eyebrows, the occasional rolling around of his beard following his jaw, which is the thing he does when he wants to yell.  The way he’s shoving his hands in his pockets, the way he’s flinching like his knee is giving him trouble. The guarded looks and constant lookaways to and from Rachel.

The worst, for Ginny – is that one look that makes her want to scream. That frustrated countenance that comes up where he’ll just stare at the couple blankly, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. If ever Rachel or David meet his eyes, he’ll plaster a smile or a pleasant nod – and drop his head down and sighs, look at his shoes or at something else. To any random person, it seems like a casual gesture but, by all that is sacred to baseball, Ginny knows that expression.

It’s defeat…and self-loathing.

(Mike’s a fighter, Ginny has known it all her life – well before they met. She’s never seen that look on him last long enough before he gears up with determination.)

In the brief expanse of the time at this party, though she sees that expression more times than she’d like.

“You know, I've got to say this again...” Steven says, snapping her out of her musings. Steven’s giving her a tour of the house, while Amy and her sister stay back in the kitchen because of some drama with the caterer. For some reason, the others have chosen to tag along, even though it’s obvious that they know they're way around the house.

Steven and her are up front, a little away from the group. Ginny scans back to check on Mike. He’s hanging around the back, closer to Rachel and David. It looks like he’s making conversation with them but…

(She never pegged him for a masochist, but then again, what fools love makes of us, right?)

Steven is shaking his head, like he’s still not overcome the shock. “...when Mikey asked me if he could bring a friend over as his plus one, the last person I expected was you.”

She smiles.

“You have to know, Ginny.” Steven says, softly. “I’ve been pestering him for months to get us an audience with you.”

“I’m not the pope.” She laughs.

“You might as well be.” Steven sighs. “I’ve even resorted to blackmail. He’s even said 'no' to our daughter and he adores that girl like she’s his own.”

“I don’t know why.” Ginny says, genuinely. “He knows I won’t mind.”

“No, it’s not that. He’s protective of the rookies, as a rule, even if he doesn’t show it – but with you it’s almost like he’s paranoid. Can’t blame him.” Steven sighs. “You’ve had a lot to deal with these past months, haven’t you?”

(But, she would have spared time, for Mike – and Mike knows it. Didn’t he want her to meet his friends?)

“You have a lovely home.” She says, when Steven shows her what looks like a music room.

“Thank you.”

“So, ten years!” Ginny says, trying to divert her attention. “That’s quite a thing.”

“Yeah,” Steven sighs. “We’ve had a better run than most.” Steve says, dropping a sad glance towards Mike.

Ginny follows his gaze and sees Mike walking with his head down, having drifted forward, walking in solitude, looking like he could use a drink. Rachel and David have stopped to admire some painting which looks like a fugly yellow blotch.

“Yes.” Ginny smiles, trying not to linger on Mike’s hunched form too much. “Congratulations.”

“Our wedding day was their meet-cute.” Steve says, slowly. “Do you know what a meet-cute is?”

(Somehow, her mind takes her to first day at the _Padres_ - the whole ass-slapping thing...) She shirks of her thoughts, nods and then says, “Really?”

“Yeah – I mean, They knew each other, from before....She was a sports reporter, after all. He pursued her like crazy but she wouldn’t give him the time of day. All that changed at our wedding."

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Amy freaked out and took off. Even Rachel couldn’t find her. I don’t know how he did it -but, somehow, Mike found her at the very last minute – and to this date I don’t know what speech he gave her that made her change her mind about pulling a runaway bride.”

“Didn’t you ask your wife?”

“She doesn’t remember. She might as well have been stoned – that’s how panicked she was. All she remembers is that after that speech, she - and I’m quoting my wife here: _snapped out of it, and jumped into the lame wedding dress._ ”

“Speeches  _are_ his thing.” Ginny says, remembering _that_ day on the mound.  _(You’re a ballplayer. you do this for you, or you don’t do it at all.)_

Steven sighs, again. “Rachel was there for that speech – though. That’s probably what tipped the scales for her. Made her see him for that man he is.”

“Why didn’t you ask her?”

“He swore her to secrecy. Rachel’s good with secrets.” Steve says. There’s a dark overtone to that last statement that she picks.

Steve looks back. “Amy and I were together a solid two years, before we were married.” He looks at Ginny and smiles. “She freaks out, and it takes _that_ guy to bring her back to me. It’s been a hell of a ride, but I keep thinking, if he hadn’t been there…would I have had any of it?”

Ginny looks back at Mike with a fond smile. She heaves a sigh of relief when he catches her glance because that dismal appearance changes to curiosity when he looks at her. His shoulders rise and he pulls his hands out of his pockets and starts to walk towards them.

His face brightens up as he slaps Steve’s back.“Why are you smiling at me like that?” He asks her. “Are you trying poach my Rookie for your softball team? ” Mikey says.

“Nope, I was just telling her about how I owe these ten _awful_ years to you, my friend.” Steven jests.

“Yeah, I should have let her take off.” Mike makes a straight face. “Probably should have slept with her.”

Ginny’s eyes widen.

Steven just starts laughing like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that!” He turns his attention to her. “Last stop on the tour is the pool.”

“I dunno, man.” Mike sighs, gruffly. “I’d keep Baker away from pools if I were you.”

“Why?”

Ginny smiles and looks away. Mike starts to guffaw. Ginny notices the unhappy look Rachel throws in their direction.

“C’mon. Let’s go inside.” Mike says. “Baker’s hungry.”

“Oh really?” Steven says, looking confused. He looks at her quizzically and asks. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Ginny frowns. “Because I’m not.” She frowns at Mike. 

“Yeah, you are.” He says.

“How can _you_ be so sure?” Steven asks, looking at them both.

“Because I’m hungry.” He shrugs.

“So, you just automatically assume that my body clocks its hunger pangs with yours?” She says, looking at him blankly.

“Nooo.” He says, glancing at Steve. “Your body clocks hunger pangs, _twice_ the frequency as mine.”

Ginny’s jaw falls. Steven starts to chuckle.

“I burn it.” Ginny grits out.

“Okay!” Mike grins wide. “So - you hungry or not?”

Ginny twists her mouth and tries to look cool. “Yes.” She says, with a straight face. “I am.”

“There you go!” Mike quips, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and shaking her.

She rolls her eyes. Steven starts laughing hard, shaking his head.

Ginny does not miss the glare she catches on Rachel face, even after he casually drops his arm.

 

 

Ginny’s never thought of herself as a self-absorbed person until this night. Somehow in the cataclysmic publicity thunderstorm she’s been through these past couple of years, she realizes that she’s always assumed that everyone else had it sorted, and she’s the only one grappling to get her shit together. Mike was always so confident, and leveled in his emotions – that he had become an anchor for her. Those feelings were so compounded by her hero-worship, that when he fell from that pedestal because of his fling with Amelia, she never considered how broken and torn he might have been inside.

“Hey!” She says, nodding her head at Rachel and David who are walking ahead of them as they head back inside. “You okay?”

He sighs out long and hard.

Ginny hangs behind with Mike as they take slower steps.

“So.” He looks up. “What did you think of the house, really?”

“It’s nice.”

“Liar.”

“Fine, it’s…too fancypants for me.” She says, sheepishly.

“Fancypants huh?” (That’s not good enough for him, apparently. He won’t let it rest.) “Be specific.” He prods.

“Okay,” Ginny agrees. “It’s kind of like walking through the Met museum.” Ginny sighs. “I mean, don’t people just put up family photos on their walls, anymore?”

“You’re being kinder than I was.” He remarks. “I told ‘em it looks like an abstract orgy with shit flying all over their walls.”

“And how did they take that?” Ginny says, trying to sniffle the snorts.

“Not well.”

There’s a general series of head turns in their direction when she laughs out loud. Ginny doesn’t miss Rachel’s pointed look.

Mike and she sober up as they walk, trying in vain to hide their smiles.

“I feel stupid” He sighs, after a silent pause.

Ginny looks up in the direction of his gaze and sees Rachel slipping her arm into David’s.

“I just…I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” He says, looking down and shoving his hands into his pockets.

She’s genuinely surprised with his admission.

“What?” Mike says, sarcastically when he notes the look on her face. “You thought I was gonna pull a Ginny Baker? Wall up and push you out?”

“Smooth.” She retorts.

“I’m an evolved man.” He shrugs.

“Could’ve fooled me.” She points to his beard.

He snorts and gives her the sexy pouty head-nod. “You love the beard.”

That shit cracks up every time. Ginny sniggers loudly, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “I do not.”

Rachel looks back, again when their laughter wafts through.  And with that, Ginny’s doubts are confirmed.

(God! She really wishes she could call Evie now because she’s a hundred percent certain of it and she needs to tell someone!)

Even if Rachel’s supposedy not in love with Mike any more….

…There’s still something there.

 

 

“You know.” She whispers as they walk down the verandah. “David is nice.”

“Yeah.” He sounds sulky.

“I mean, it would be a terrible sacrifice, on my part.” She acts like she’s resigning to a fact. “But I could totally throw myself under the bus for you.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know. Offer myself up as a sacrifice. Be a distraction.” She ribs. “So you can get the girl?”

Mike isn’t very amused.

“I mean, I am your wingman.” She says, when he doesn’t reply. “It’s my sworn duty to clear the obstacles to your happiness.”

“ _Tsk!_ ”

“Only ‘cause your my teammate.” She shrugs.

“So what, you’re gonna hang up your ladyparts for Dr. Assh - Dr. Strange over there?” He snarks.

“No!” She exclaims. And then she thinks about it. “I mean, I _might_.”

“That’s not funny, Baker.” He says, sounding serious.

“No, think about it.” She whispers, leaning into him as they walk up three steps that lead to the stairwell. “I could totally flirt with the guy. And then, your ex wakes up and realizes what an amazing man you are because he’s a man-skank. And you two can make a run for it, while I distract him.”

Mike looks at her, narrowing his eyes, like he’s thinking over the scenario.

“Nope.” He says.

“C’mon!” She says, like she’s serious about the whole thing.

“No.”

“Why?” She whines, playfully.

“Because that would be worse.” He says, sounding as dead serious as he looks and walks ahead.

She’s laughing at his retreating back until it hits her. How sombre he really is.

“Mike!” She hisses after him, surprised. He turns around at the edge of the passageway and there’s all the raw emotion in his eyes that takes her by surprise.

“I’m joking.” She says, going up to him.

“I’m not.” He says, softly – but sternly. 

She loops her arm into his elbow and stops him. “Alright. I’ll cut it out.”

He nods at her angrily and turns away.

“Old Man!” She says softly, stopping him in his tracks.

He throws his head back and sighs out loud. “I’m sorry, I just – he’s a great guy, I know. He’s better than me. I just…that – she was _my_ _wife_.”

“Hey!” She rounds up to face him. “He’s not better than you! And I get it! You don’t have to apologize to me…”

She trails off when he looks at her, with that same devastating expression that she’d seen that morning. He droops his head.

God, she hates seeing him like this. It’s just so – _not_ – right.

“What happened between you two?” Ginny blurts, squeezing her palm over the sleeve of his jacket.

Mike snaps his head up, looking at her with ferocity. She shakes her head, filled with regret, and drops her chin. “Sorry.” She says, in all sincerity. “Don’t get mad, please. I don’t wanna know. I didn’t mean to ask that.”

His palm covers her hand as she loosens her grip. He pats it gently. When she looks up, there’s a sad look in his eyes and a sweet smile on his face.

“Oh wait!” Ginny stops him, just they’re about to round out into the living room.

“I said ‘no’, Baker.” He warns.

“I know, it’s not that. I almost forgot to tell you. I got them a present.”

“Why?” He says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t know, it’s weird. I mean, they’re _your_ friends. And they’re clearly special to you. And I basically invited myself to their anniversary party.” She shrugs.

He looks at her with a mixture of affection and amusement and then shakes his head, like he’s shaking off a foolish thought.

“When did you find time?” He asks.

“Oh, our hotel has a nice giftshop. I bought it on the way down to meet you.” She says. “Look away.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t carry my purse and this dress doesn’t have pockets.”

“Where’s your phone?” He frowns.

“At the hotel room.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Technically, it’s my night off.”

“From your phone?” He grimaces.

“The shrink actually prescribed it.” Ginny winces. “I need to keep away from it one day in the week, so I can get some rest. Like - she wrote it on paper” Ginny winces. “Only to get Amelia to back off.”

He looks impressed.

“What if there’s an emergency and someone needs to reach you?”

“I’m always around someone with a phone.” Ginny shrugs, pointing to him.  “Ugh, I wish I’d brought it, though, I really want to talk to Evelyn.”

“So, if you don’t have your purse, how did you pay…” He frowns.

“I got tricks, Old Man. Now hurry up and look away.”

“I dunno Baker,” He sighs, making an innocently pensive face. “I mean, aren’t you a little older than the average rebellious shoplifter?”

“I didn’t…” She starts to say and sees the expression on his face. He’s stifling that shit-eating grin. “I charged it to the room!” She says, making a face.

He starts chuckling again.

Ginny shakes her head. “C’mon, Old Man! I said look away!”

“Ohh-kay.” He sighs and turns his head to one side.

She fishes out the little pouch from inside her boob-crack and when she looks up, he’s gawking at her.

“You said, you weren’t gonna look!” She swats his arm.

He’s just staring at her not-quite-modest neckline like something else is about to crawl out from her cleavage. He reaches his tongue out and moistens his lips. Slowly.

“So um…” He swallows. “You got other stuff hiding down there?” He says, stepping forward sounding innocent with just an edge of flirtatious. “Y’know? Money? Pepperspray? A gun? knife? Pitcher’s glove?”

“No.” She giggles.

A naughty shadow flashes over those hazel eyes. “Couple of bal-?”

“Don’t you say it.” She shakes with laughter after cutting him off with a pointed warning.

He grins at her, naughtily. Ginny sighs, feeling her breathing hitch when he gives her that searing look of fondness.

“Okay. I won’t.” He says, guffawing. “C’mon Baker, they’ll be waiting.”

“Ooh! ooh!” She stops him.

“Now what?”

“I do have couple of sticks of gum in there, though. Always carry it. You want some?”

He looks a little flummoxed. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She says, nonchalantly.

Mike throws her another look of amused disbelief.

“Why? Don’t you hide gum in your bra?” She says, with a straight face. She purses her lips to stop the chuckles from spilling out.

He puts his hands in his pockets and steps forward, with an expression so intense that it makes her feel sweaty, all of a sudden – and, has her taking an involuntary step back.

“Baker…” Her name sounds like low pitched warning.

“Uncle Mikey!”

He doesn’t break the gaze, at first, even as he steps back. He just tips his head – just that much. The same look after he hit that home run against the Cardinals at the beanball game.  An unspoken _there’s other ways._ Ginny closes her eyes and exhales out when he turns in the direction of a child’s squeal.

She watches with some amount of wonder when he ducks to catch the little girl that’s leaping off the bottom of the stairwell, straight into his arms. (It should come as no surprise; how good he is with kids. Mike has always been a people person. But –) There’s something about the image of this gentle scruffy giant hugging this tiny blonde child whose stick-like arms are wrapped around his beefy neck that does surprise her.

The tenderness in his face and voice.  The tension on his face, replaced by a look of pure love, when he draws back to look at her. “Hiya slugger!” He says, planting a noisy kiss on her forehead.

She squirms and giggles scratching her forehead after he kisses her. “Ew! Uncle Mikeeeey!” She tugs at his beard, like she’s convinced it’s a fake and then makes a face like she’s disappointed that it isn’t.

“Ugh! No!” She whines. “It still won’t come off.”

He laughs out loud -  a warm and truly joy filled sound that makes Ginny smile.

“Look at you!” He says, bouncing her in his arms. “You’re all skin and bones!” He throws his head in the direction of another room, that she correctly presumes where Richards are, and yells. “Hey! Why aren’t you guys feeding your kid?”

“Stop talking about us like we’re bad parents!” She hears Amy yell back. “Not in front of you-know-who!”

The little girl shrieks with laughter and answers proudly. “Mommy, says my metapolis is too fast.”

“Metabolism?” Mike prods.

She nods furiously.

The little girl grabs his face in the cutest way and makes him look at her. Her big blue eyes looking straight into his hazel ones. Ginny’s amazed at how attentively he gazes at Felicity, like she’s the only person in the world who could possibly own his attention.

Ginny’s thinks of her father _…up in the air, feeling like she’s flying. And, when that feeling hits her little stomach, she knows that she’s falling but she ain’t scared. Sure enough, she lands straight in Pop’s arms. He’s smiling through his bushy moustache, his shiny head, the wonderment in his eyes and the grin on his face make her feel real proud._ _“I’ll be damned, little girl. I’ll be damned!”_ _She feels real proud that she’s made Pop happy. She doesn’t care why._

“Did you get me a signed glove to practice with, Uncle Mikey?” She says, pulling Ginny out of her memories.

Ginny blinks her tears away.

“No slugger, I’m sorry they don’t make ‘em in your size, yet, _but_ …” He says, in a cooing voice. “I’ve got you something better.”

He turns with her in Ginny’s direction and points. (Seeing Mike carry a six-year old with that tender expression – though…)

“Felicity,” He says, in a voice so gentle (Ginny imagines her ovaries clench). “I’ve got you…Ginny Baker! In the flesh.”

The shrieking is not unexpected this time. The ‘ohmigods’ sound too familiar. Ginny’s convinced of two things by the end of all the excitement:

a) Mike Lawson would make a terrific Dad…and..  
b) Felicity inherited her vocal cords from her mother.

 

\--

 

If Ginny thinks about it, this _is_ the quietest dinner party she’s done in two years and she feels completely out of place, because the only person in that room who’s younger than her is the six-year-old that’s wedged herself in the couch between her and Mike, repetitively announced that Ginny Baker was ‘the bestest player ever’.

Ginny doesn’t miss the sour look on her Uncle Mikey’s face when she says that.

(Mike wasn’t kidding about the girl latching on to her leg, though. Felicity was a tiny tenacious chatterbox who barely reached her knees and wouldn’t stop hugging her legs, once all the shouting and flailing was done.)

“Ginny Baker’s sitting on our couch!” Amy sings softly as she prances up to Ginny with two bottles. “Red or white?”

“Oh. I’m not drinking.” She says.

“Are you not a wine person?”

“No, not really. But I’m not…drinking tonight, anyway…”

“Oh, well we got everything.” Amy says, looking over at Steve who is sauntering over to Mike, carrying two glasses of what looks like scotch.

Mike shakes his head.

“What seriously?” Steve says, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah.” Mike says, pulling out his phone and checking it. “Yeah, we’re thinking driving back down to San Diego tonight. I can’t.” Then he looks at her, suddenly and frowns. “What’s your deal, Baker?”

“Nothin’” She says, convinced there’s merit to Blip’s statements earlier. Mike looks like he’s about to crack at some point and reach for the hard stuff.

“I’m good.” She adds.

He frowns at her but doesn’t say anything.

The other two couples are discussing something related to the election. Ginny keeps glancing towards the corner window where Rachel seems to have retreated, clinging to her fiancé.

It’s peculiar. Given the direct way Rachel Patrick was known to corner people on TV, or even for interviews, Ginny would never have pegged her to be reticent on a personal front.

Her attention is drawn by Felicity tugging at her dress.

“Uncle Mikey says you’re the best rookie he’s ever had.” Felicity says, happily.

“Does he now?” Ginny glances up at Mike, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He shrugs and reaches for his phone, peering down at it.

“I’m gonna be a catcher too some day.” Felicity declares. “Just like Uncle Mikey.”

At least that brings a smug smile on Uncle Mikey’s face.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Felicity looks at her with big concerned eyes.

“No.” Ginny laughs and pats her head. “I think…that…your Uncle Mikey’s…the best catcher there is.”

Mike rolls his eyes at her and scans his phone.

“Uncle Mikey says that you’re one of the best pitchers he’s caught for” Felicity declares.

“Does he now?” Ginny teases Mike.

“She’s six.” Mike comments under breath, as he taps something. “She doesn’t have to chase after your wild pitches or play peak-a-boo with your fastball.”

Ginny tilts her head to one side, not verbalizing the: ‘That all you got?’ right up until he looks at her. Mike’s cheeks lift and crinkle his eyes as he gives her a smug smirk.

An emphatic giggle directs hers and Mike’s attention. Rachel and David are huddled over his phone, smiling at something. David kisses Rachel on the side of her forehead.

Mike’s face goes blank. Ginny stabs her fingers into the hollow of her palm to prevent her hand from reaching out to him. Amy and Steve exchange nervous looks.

“C’mon, Amy.” Mike says, suddenly getting off the couch, with a small grunt. “There’s gotta be something that Baker can drink. Let’s have a look.”

Amy looks visibly relieved and happily escorts him out. Ginny looks on after him chewing on her lower lip.

“So, Amelia Slater’s your agent, huh.” Cassie remarks, once they leave the room.

“Yeah, you know her?”

Everyone in the room starts to nod, except David. Ginny doesn’t find that surprising – Amelia’s proverbial rolodex of people in television and PR wasn’t a joke.

“We all thought she’d had a breakdown when she pulled that Jerry Maguire to run after some no-name girl in the minors.” Cassie says, nonchalantly. “Looks like she’s the last person standing.”

“Okay.” Ginny says, shifting uncomfortably.

“I’m surprised she’s letting you out of her sight.” Cassie says. “I’m sure there are dozens of agents flocking around to poach you all the time.”

Steven throws a warning look at Cassie. Andy places a hand on his wife’s back, like he’s telling her to tone it down.

“C’mon.” Cassie says. “She’s not even a sports agent. She doesn’t know squat about baseball.”

“Well, now, she does.” Ginny says, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “And she’s a good agent.”

“That’s no secret, Amelia’s always been good at sniffing out diamonds in rubble.” Cassie mutters. “Turning them into masterpieces.” She snorts, resentfully.

Ginny tries to keep her smile polite.  

“Ginny’s not some piece of rock.” Mike says, coming in, giving an evident non-verbal warning to Steve that he doesn’t approve of Cassie’s behaviour.  He hands her a glass of what looks like Bloody Mary. “She’s a ballplayer.”

“Cassie used to work for the same PR firm that Amelia did.” Steven says, taking the hint. Ginny doesn’t miss the stern look he throws at Cassie. “Don’t mind her. She’s just jealous.”

Ginny choose to sip the drink rather than comment, satisfied that it’s a virgin drink. Mike smacks a bottle of tobacco sauce in front of her earning a smile from her which he returns (he knows she adds extra.) She gives Rachel a gimlet eye and catches the woman looking at her and Mike with intrigue.

“That was a compliment for Amelia Slater.” Cassie says, looking sheepish. She turns to Ginny. “I mean, she did turn you into the greatest story of the decade.”

Somehow that statement makes Ginny feel smaller, and she doesn’t know why. Mike and Steven shoot Cassie some weird looks, which has her shrugging and backing down.

Mike grunts when he sits down – (Ginny knows that’s the grunt he makes when his back is giving him trouble). Felicity, finally, gets bored of Ginny and clambers into lap.  

“The diamond is the toughest substance on earth.” Felicity pipes up as she wiggles her tiny backside over Mike's thigh. “And Uncle Mikey says you’re the toughest person he knows.”

The phrase ‘Thank god for small mercies’, had to include little girl wisdom, Ginny thinks. She smiles down at her and nods a thank you. She looks up at Mike. He shrugs, with a small smile, like he’s not ashamed of what he said. “Sure is.” Mike says.

“Uncle Mikey says.” Felicity declares. “Is very likely yer gonna be cap’n of the Padres, one day. The first woman cap’n in majuh’ league baseball.”

Ginny notices Rachel’s attention has been towards their conversation, now. She also notices the funny expression on Steven’s face as he keeps looking at the two of them.

Ginny laughs dismissively until she catches Mike’s eyes. He’s looks at Felicity like the little girl spilled out his best kept secret.

 _Wait, seriously?_ He thought she had potential? To stay? To become the captain?

“If nobody poaches you before that.” Felicity adds, scrunching her nose like she’s just recalled something.

Andy looks pensive at the conversation. Mike’s starting to look uncomfortable.

“Okay!” Mike laughs nervously. “How about we not discuss what Uncle Mikey says, huh? Where’s your brother? I haven’t seen him!”

“Oh!” Amy comes to Ginny with a plate of food and hands it to her. “He’s upstairs, playing video games with our new au pair. Felicity, go call Barry!”

Felicity, who, is clearly the darling of her Uncle Mikey, promptly gives him a kiss on the cheek before scampering off. Her mother perches on the arm of the chair that Steven’s sitting on.

“Oh you guys have a new au pair?” Mike smirks suggestively once the girl is out of the room.

“He’s a manny.” Lori says, nastiness dripping from her voice. She’s finally opened her mouth for the first time, since she just said ‘hi‘ to Ginny and proceeded to snub her thereafter.  

“Like a man-nanny.” Lori persists. “Not your type. Unlike the last one.”

“Yeah.” Mike sighs, looking at Steven apologetically. “Sorry, about…that.”

Ginny’s genuinely interested in the appetizers, and completely not interested in what is obviously Mike sleeping with their previous nanny. ( _Hmm._ She doesn’t feel so creeped out by his prolific sexual history anymore. Maybe she is outgrowing that ridiculous crush.)

“He slept with her.” Lori says, looking at Ginny. “In case, you’re wondering. She’s was barely nineteen.”

Mike doesn’t seem bothered by Lori’s bitchiness – but – he does look uncomfortable, and Ginny knows it’s from the glance that Rachel throws his way.

“I…was…not.” Ginny says, unaffected – because really, she was not.

“Yeah, he’s really into jailbait.” Lori sneers.

Ginny looks at Lori with the most apathetic expression she can. From the corner of her eye, she sees Mike’s hand creep over her plate.

“Dude!” She says, looking at him annoyed.

He looks guilty, like he didn’t expect her to catch him in the act. Then, he shrugs coolly and steals one of the pigs-in-blankets. There’s a daring twinkle in his eye when he shrugs and chucks it in his mouth.

Steven’s watching his actions like a hawk. Ginny ignores the looks he throws at them.

“What?” Mike says, nonchalantly. “She didn’t bring a plate for me.”

“Because you stuffed your face with half the _amuse bouche_ when you went to fetch water.” Amy says, softly.

(Ginny doesn’t know what an _amuse bouche_ is, she makes a mental note to look it up.)

Amy looks at Ginny and smiles sweetly. “He’s a hog.”

Ginny’s about to agree with her when Mike snorts. “You says that because you haven’t seen Baker eat.”

There’s a collective gasp from all the women in the room. They look like some unpleasant detail about her has been divulged. Ginny frowns at them - she doesn’t know what the big deal is.

Steven starts to snigger.

“I burn it.” Ginny says, offering up an explanation.

“It’s not you, its them.” Mike says, joining in with Steven’s chuckling. “It’s an LA thing.”

“Whatever.” Ginny says and goes back to her food, forcing herself to eat slower -because, _now,_ she feels awkward.

Mike skirts over and peers into her plate.

“Don’t even think about it.” She hisses.

“Mike!” Amy chides. “Hang on, I’ll get you a plate.”

David and Rachel have somewhat drifted towards their group. Ginny notes the handholding - and that Rachel purposefully leans in to David when Mike looks at them. She wonders if Mike knows that there’s some about of deliberation to Rachel’s actions. She even debates leaning into Mike, just to give him some leverage, but then –

(She’s not his girlfriend. Or his date. Or anything. That wouldn’t be the right call.)

“So, Ginny.” David says, taking the opposite sofa, and draping his arm around Rachel. “May I call you that? Or would you prefer Miss Baker.”

(His accent is so cool, she’s totally down with the Miss Baker.)

“Ginny’s fine.” She says.

“How do you find San Diego?”

“Er…I dunno.” She shrugs. “I’ve barely seen it. Ever since they called me up, it’s been crazy.”

“Yeah, I understand.” He says. “Would you believe I hadn’t seen the Santa Monica until my second year in LA?”

Ginny smiles at him – and it’s all good, and then she smiles at Rachel who basically returns a very cold little grimace.

(Apparently, it’s easier to not-hate the fiancé than try and make conversation with the spouse. She needs to bring that to Evie’s notice, in case, they ever set the rules in stone.)

“So,” Ginny says. “What about you, I hear you’re some child heart doctor?”

“Pediatric heart surgeon.” Lori says, looking at Mike. “It’s actually a real job. Unlike some.”

“You’re saying that ballplayers don’t have real jobs?” Ginny says, sweetly, cocking her head at her.

 (Boom! Score 1 for Baker. Lori retreats.)

“Burn.” Mike mutters under breath, with a straight face, giving her a subtle nod of approval. Ginny knows that no one can either hear him or see their exchange.  

Except maybe Steven. That man’s a white boy version of Evelyn for sure.

“Nobody likes to be the person who offended Ginny Baker.” She susurrates, keeping an even face from her end, putting food in her mouth so they can’t hear her. “So!” Ginny says, loudy, quickly gulping and smiling brightly at David. “How do you find…your job? And um – LA?”

“I like it well enough.” He says.

“Don’t you miss home?” She says, idly. “Wherever you’re from?”

“Oh I miss, London a lot.” He says. He looks at Rachel with affection – and Ginny knows that gentle growl she hears from Mike is not one of approval. “But I like LA better.”

“Cool.” Ginny says, looking down feeling stupid – clearly that direction of small talk was a mistake. She offers her plate to Mike as an apology for stirring up that hornet’s nest.

Mike narrows his eyes at her – but, takes whatever is left on her plate. (Also, Steven’s curious looks are getting curious _er_.)

“So.” Mike says, sounding annoyingly chirpy. “How’s work? Dav- _id._ ”

“Good, good.” David says, good naturedly. “The pay’s alright. The hours could be better.”

“He’s being modest.” Rachel says, looking at David with pride. “He’s the most sought after paediatric heart surgeon on the West coast and barely has any time.”

(She does not miss the resentful snort that Mike makes.)

“David does a lot of pro-bono surgeries.” Rachel continues. “Just yesterday he returned from Bolivia from a week-long-surgery camp.”

(Ginny thinks that David might as well be a prized stallion the way Rachel looks at him.)

“Oh.” Ginny says, frowning. “Hmm Bolivia. The CHF initiative?”

“Yes.” David says, pulling his arm off Rachel and leaning forward with interest. “How do you…”

“Yeah, I’m a sponsor.” She says.

“I believe benefactor, is the correct term.”   

“Nope.” Ginny smiles. “I don’t contribute money as much as sponsor some things. Y’know like those sneakers, the volunteers distributed? For the kids.”  

“I’m amazed, Ginny Baker.” David says, leaning back. “A lot of those children were talking about you, you know? Girls in particular. They know who you are.”

Ginny feels touched. “Yeah, the foundation sent over this really sweet card with their pictures the other day. I know the camp was a big success. Good on you!” 

“Did you sponsor the schoolbags as well?”

“No, those were from the corporate sponsor’s end. It’s part of our arrangement.”

“I’m impressed you keep tabs.”

“Oh, when its kids…!” She shrugs.

“We would never have pegged you for being a silent benefactor.” Rachel remarks.

“A lot of athletes are silently involved in charities.” Ginny says. “It’s not always some CSR or publicity thing. I mean, look at Mike.” She glances at him. He’s looking at her with a small smile ( – that’s yeah – it’s not a regular small smile. His eyes are too intense for her.)

She looks back at the fiancé.

“He’s got highest number of charitable causes among all the _Padres._ You don’t hear him harping about all the good work he does.” She looks at Steven. “Right?” She asks.

Steven appears quite impressed at her insider knowledge. He nods quietly.

“What can I say, Baker, I’m a really humble guy.” Mike says, patting her shoulder.

Ginny rolls her eyes at him. Steven barks out a laugh. “Yeah, real modest too.” He says.

“ _You_ seem to know a lot.” Lori comments, giving accusatory looks at Ginny. 

Ginny looks up from her drink, frowning at the frowns she’s receiving from Cassie and Lori. There is a whole different level of awkwardness, now.

Amy comes by with two plates, stops and then stares at everyone in the room.

“What is her problem?” Ginny mutters as she wolfs down food, smiling gratefully at Amy as she goes back around to sit on the armrest of Steven’s chair.

“I dated her.” Mike mumbles, taking a sip of something colorless. “It didn’t end well.”

“So,” Cassie starts. She gives Ginny a half-hearted smile. “Ginny. So, are you and Mike dating?”

“Oh! I’m not his date.” Ginny says, calmly and quickly. “We’re just good friends.”

“Because dating wouldn’t be allowed.” Rachel says, her voice having an intonation of warning hidden. She’s looking at Cassie, but Ginny can’t help feel like the warning is directed to her. “I mean, Ginny is the first female player across all major sports. Think of all the gender controversies that would spark. And Ginny doesn’t like being put in any uncomfortable positions where she’s forced to comment. Isn’t it?”

Mike tenses beside her.

“Sure.” Ginny states, keeping her cool. “And. Because.” Ginny asserts. “We’re _not_ dating.”

“You know” Rachel says, sweetly, looking directly at her. “I don’t think Mike’s ever brought a female _friend_ to one of these before.”

David’s pleasant smile falters. Ginny notices him turning his head to his fiancée. When Ginny looks at Mike she’s fully expecting discomfort, annoyance or something of the sort. There’s nothing. He surprisingly looks - amused.

“Seriously, Old Ma-  Lawson!” Ginny exclaims. The devil’s trying to sneak food off her plate again. “You have a plate of the same thing - like right there.”

He shrugs at her and steals the canape anyway. He wiggles his eyebrows innocently at Steven. Steven’s got that peculiar look on his face again.

“Come to think of it,” Rachel says – her voice most definitively on the sharp edge. “I don’t think he has female _friends._ ”

Ginny’s face steels up and her head tilts to the side. “Maybe…” She speaks in a low tone. “He never needed ‘em?”

“And he needs one now?” Rachel says, looking at her with incredulity, leaning forward.

“I meant, because…..” Ginny smiles coldly. “Back then…his wife was there…by his side?”

(Score 2 Baker. Team Ex-wife: 0)

Rachel’s jaw drops a little, she leans back.

Ginny pops her lips and looks at Mike. He doesn’t look happy. She winces at him and he winces back.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters, when she sips her drink.

“No. I am.” He mumbles, furrows on his forehead are deep, making him looking remarkably tired and his age. “I should have warned you about the twisted sisters.”

“Daddeeee!” Felicity’s sweet voice echoes in, slicing through the tension. “Barry's not listening!”

There’s definitive sigh of relief exhaled by a lot of people in the room.

“Can I show Ginny Baker my room?” They hear.

“Yes!” Ginny jumps up, a little too enthusiastically. “I would love to see your daughter’s room.”

“Are you sure?” Steven asks, looking nervously. “It’s basically a shrine. If she wasn’t a six-year-old, I’m pretty sure it would qualify as a stalker’s wall. You’re practically on every inch of it.”

“Awww.” Mike drawls. “Don’t worry about that! Baker knows all about having posters on walls.”

Ginny doesn’t comment. Only Steven catches her smug face when she delivers a swift and stealthy kick to Mike’s shin that nobody else sees.

That cute little yelp he makes when he doubles over is a decent payback.

   


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry on the delay. The american election effed me up - like at work. Too much shit to speculate and so as a reward, i give you a lengthy treat because I'm happy with 107 and it sort of fits into the idea i have of how Mike is coming along in canon and each chapter is pov based so this way it was easier.  
> what's happening in america is not helping my state of mind - and no, i don't want to hear about that in the reviews. let's talk about happy things. like mike and ginny possibly bonking.

Rachel’s jealous. Mike knows she is.

He just wishes that it gives him the sense of validation or victory that it was supposed to.

He doesn’t feel the urge to resent her or call her out on it. Jealousy is a natural sentiment and it doesn’t mean anything more than it is. He’s not a fool to think she’ll come rushing back in his arms. It’s immature to think or expect so – and maturity is supposed to be his new thing now, right.

Right?

Two and a half years ago, Mike laughed for five minutes straight when Blip had told him about a girl pitcher in the minors who was going to make it to the big leagues one day. Two and a half years ago, his knees didn’t feel like sore putty. Two and a half years ago, he never believed the woman who was once his confidante, his guide, his friend, his love…his wife…was finding love – with someone else.

Now here he is. A woman in the majors – his rookie and plus one to the third circle of hell. A never-ending power struggle between his brain and his weakening joints. His wife, in the arms of a stranger. And him, sitting there - pissfaced without even having the luxury of being drunk - watching them like witness to a gruesome accident (-  you know you can’t look, but your eyes are frozen on the scene anyway.)

He’s cut adrift, that’s what he is…

…Anchorless.

What’s ironic about this clusterfuck is that, even now, he wants to pull Rachel aside and ask her what she thinks.

Rachel was his person. Rachel - was _home_. She was the stability that he never had all his life. She was the person _he_ sought out. The person _he_ went up to. She was the anchor and the compass – now he doesn’t navigate, he just drifts – even if, just _barely,_ he drifts.)

 _Dammit,_ he could use that drink. Maybe two. Maybe more.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Amy asks, anxiously.

“Baker?” He says, unconcerned. “I’m sure she’s okay.”

“They’ve been up there, a while.” Steven says. He’s also waving a 12-year-old scotch bottle at him with a simultaneous query. 

He looks up at the ceiling – smiling inwardly, imagining Felicity’s pink walls splattered with _Ginnsanity_ stuff. “Yeah, she’s fine.” He says.

“How can you be so sure?” Steven asks.

Mike shakes his head at him when Steven waves the bottle at him again. “Ginny’s a big girl.” Mike comments distractedly. “She can handle herself.”

“Felicity’s a handful.” Amy says, still obviously worried. “Barry’s a recluse. Maybe I should…”

“Don’t worry about it, Amy.” Mike smiles up at her. “She’s probably having more fun up there than with the sisterhood of the bitchypants out there.”

Amy doesn’t look amused. “They’re just being protective of Rachel.”

Mike snorts.

“Mike, you can’t blame them.” Amy asserts, looking at him meaningfully. “They don’t know the whole story.”

Mike purses his lips, looks away.

“She’s happy, Mike.” Amy reaches for his hand.

Mike looks up at her and swallows that dry painful lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezes her hand in reassurance.

“You really look like you could use this, buddy.” Steven prods.

“I could.” Mike concurs. “But, not tonight.”

Steven and Amy share a chaste kiss before Amy leaves in the direction of their other guests.

“It means a lot to both of us that you came tonight, Mikey.” Steven says, sighing after his wife. “Amy was worried that you wouldn’t show...”

“Yeah, man, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Mike drones out mechanically, trying to find some other thing to focus on. (He can’t fucking keep _looking_ at Rachel and David, he can’t fucking look _away_ from them, either.)

“Ginny’s the real deal, huh?” Steven says.

Mike turns his head towards his friend. “What do you mean?”

“All the world’s a stage, right?” Steven comments.

“Stevie, the only reason I took Shakespeare was to lynch pickup lines. I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what you’re talking about.”

“I mean, everyone’s an actor. All celebrities are projected as fun, social and friendly but those of us behind the scenes know the real deal. Ginny’s not faking it.”

Mike doesn’t know why Steven finds that perplexing. “What she fakes is that she’s okay with the attention.” Mike thinks out loud.

“And you would know that? For a certainty.” Steven seems surprised.

“I do.”

“Is that why you never brought her over before? I know you wanted to. Is that it, Mikey? You figure everyone’s out to use her, show her off to their friends and family – be the person that knows Ginny Baker?” Steven asks. “So, _you_ do the exact opposite?”

Mike would have found Steven’s tone dubious if he was paying attention. Rachel and _the guy_ are standing in the shadows, next the French windows, away from the group. _Almost_ hidden by the shadows.

They’re kissing.

“Mike.” Steven cautions.

“So…” Mike snorts bitterly. “He’s a busy guy and she’s okay with it.” He looks back at Steven. “But I’m an asshole because I neglected her for my job?”

Steven looks at him helplessly.

“He sure is a charming motherfucker though.” Mike remarks, unable to keep cynicism out of his voice. He grabs a can of soda and cracks it open. “Never goes before a lady –“ He repeats Dr. Asswholewhofuckedmywife’s words. He clucks his tongue, indignantly. “Just runs after ‘em.”

“Amy says he’s not like that.” Steven mentions, sounding tentative.

“Yeah?” Mike spits out. “Amy’s also the one who yelled at me for five fucking minutes about how Rachel was too principled to cheat on me and how I was a sexist pig for doubting her. And what happened in the end, huh?”

Steven sighs out, sounding pitiful and helpless - shaking his head. “I’m sorry, buddy – I just – I really don’t know what to say.”

Mike groans. “I’m not blaming her, Stevie – or you. I’m really not. I mean – the passive aggressive bullshit I pulled on Amy that first couple of months was cruel. I am sorry about that. I feel like shit about the siccing the blame on your wife. That’s why I stopped coming over, as much.”

“You were angry.” Steven says, with kindness that Mike knows he doesn’t deserve. “You needed someone to blame. Amy was the one who introduced them. It’s justifiable to think she facilitated this.”

“But she didn’t. I always thought I was a better person than the asswipe who…” Mike makes a frustrated claw. “…misdirects anger issues.”

“None of us are better than that.” Steven says. He looks away, looking embarrassed. “I took it out on Amy too.”

Mike gives Steven a vacant stare. “What?” He asks, sharply. “Why’d _you_ take it out on her?”

Steven gives him a gloomy look. “I thought she knew the whole time. Turns out she didn’t.”

“C’mon man.” Mike says, shaking his head. “That was _not_ fair.”

“Hey,” Steven says. “If you’re gonna tell me I don’t deserve that lovely, forgiving woman, you won’t get an argument from me. Not the proudest moment in our marriage, I’ll tell you that.”

“Ahh! None of us deserve her.” Mike grumbles. “She always sees the best in people.” He moans in exasperation and drops his head in his palm.  “So.” He mutters. “Somehow, I managed – not only to end my marriage but I almost screw up yours?” He snorts sarcastically. “Rachel is right. I drag everyone into my garbage.”

“She said that?” Steven says, giving him an incredulous look.  

Mike glances up at him as a reply. Steven shakes his head and looks in the direction of their guests.

“You look like you need a drink, Mikey.” Steven changes the subject. “For once, you have a companion that’s a sensible woman who looks like she can handle a car and who’s clearly determined to stay sober tonight.”

“She’s probably not drinking because Blip’s warned her about me and I’m determined to prove that well-meaning SOB wrong.” Mike winces.

Steven smirks and then says, “Why don’t I…?” He pours some scotch into a glass. “…arrange a driver who’ll drive you guys back down? Then you both can let loose and have some fun, what do you say?”

“I don’t think that’s wise...” He says, looking down at his phone when it rings. It’s Blip. “Think of the devil.” Mike grins and picks up the phone. “Yeah buddy?”

_“Hey Mike! It’s Evelyn. Is Ginny with you?”_

“Er yeah…” Mike looks upwards. “She’s not nearby. Do you want me to have her call you?”

 _“She’s not with you?”_ Evelyn sounds, troubled _. “Where is she? Is she okay?”_

“Yeah, Stevie’s daughter took her upstairs to show her room.” He frowns, suddenly. “Why wouldn’t she be okay?

_“Ohhhh.”_

“Why?” Mike gets off the chair, his confusion deepening.

_“Nothing. Can you ask her to call me? Nothing urgent.”_

He wants to tell her that her voice implies a more than ‘nothing urgent’ situation but, before Mike can reply, she disconnects. Mike frowns at the phone and then looks up at Steven. “Yeah, maybe I should go check on her.”

Steven’s focussed at a point beyond Mike with a bright smile on his face. Mike turns around and finds Ginny walking towards them, smiling like she’s in a better mood than when she left the room.

“Hey!” Mike says, cheerfully. “There she is!”

(Yeah, looking at Baker makes him feel a whole lot better about everything, too.)

There’s a distinct discomfort in the way her heels click when she walks – like, she’s walking gingerly. Mike would bet his lucky glove that those shoes are biting her feet something fierce.

“Hey!” She greets them, and widens her grin at Steven. “Your kids are amazing!”

“Thank you.” Steven says, looking touched. “Barry can be a little reticent.”

“I didn’t think so.” She says, confidently. “Barry and I are best buds.”

“Really?” Steven looks intrigued.

“The key to an eight-year-old’s heart, is video games!” Ginny states smugly.

“You’re in his inner sanctum of privilege.” Steven smiles. “That’s a real achievement, you know.”

“Yeah, it is.” Mike agrees. “You thirsty?” He asks, but, he’s already grabbed the soda and slides it over to her. She catches it deftly and fiddles with the aluminium tag.

“Yeah.” She sighs, gratefully.

“Ginny, I…” Steven looks hesitant. He glances at Mike apologetically and back at Ginny. “I’m sorry about…” He huffs. “The way Cassie and Lori were…”

Ginny waves him off. “It’s cool, Steven.” She says. “No hard feelings.”

Steven looks at Mike with uncertainty – like he doubts she’s being truthfully gracious. When Mike gives him brief encouraging nod, he relaxes and smiles at back at Ginny in gratitude. “I should go and tell Amy, that Felicity hasn’t worn you out.” He excuses himself.

Mike doesn’t look in the direction that Steven goes – he is _not_ okay with the prospect of getting a re-screening of another man’s tongue down his wife’s throat.

Ginny’s eyes, at first, move quietly in the direction of where Rachel and David are (and Mike knows which direction that is, because he’s sober and hyperaware of everything) then they return to him.

“You okay?” She asks.

Mike sighs and turns to his soda, scrubbing his face. “Yeah, I’m good.” He lies. He points to her shoes as she fidgets her feet. “Those look like they’re giving you trouble.”

“Ugh.” She looks down at her feet and moans. “Yeah.”

“ _Argh!_ ” Mike groans, rubbing is temples. “I need a drink.”

“Then why don’t you get one?” She says. “I’ll drive safely, don’t worry.”

“Baker –“ He sighs. “I – I don’t think that I should.”

She frowns, twisting her mouth. Then, she lifts her index up, pouting – like she’s recalling something. She sneaks at the others – as if she’s checking that someone is looking in their direction; then she fishes out a paper stick of gum.

From between her tits.

Mike curses and shakes his head, his sides hurting with laughter that he’s trying not to vocalize. “What are you some ‘20s flapper?” He chuckles silently and takes the stick.

“Nope.” She smiles.

 _Fuck! It feels warmed up_ (– most likely _because_ it’s spent a great deal of time in a warm, snug space that Mike _shouldn’t_ be thinking about. Between _those_ breasts - that he _does_ think about, even if he _shouldn’t_ be thinking about them. _That_ space that was home to a stick of gum - that has him wondering if he lifts it to his nose, will it smell of its characteristic minty flavour or will it be mixed with her scent.)

There’s a loud series of chuckles, which forces them to look. _The guy_ has cracked some witty joke that has everyone in stitches.

_(Asshat fucker that fucked his wife.)_

Rachel is smiling – and she looks so happy. The metaphorical knife twists again. Like some sort of invisible demon has its grip around it, waiting for the opportune moment.

(She used to smile like that at him, she used to laugh like that at his jokes, she used to look up at him with affection and respect, like she looks at _David,_ right now –

 _Shit!_ He is never going to get over that, is he?

The fact that, his wife is _happy_ with another man? 

He still sees her as his wife, is the thing.

 _There goes that fucking knife-twist again_.)

“I’m gonna ask you, again, Old Man.” Ginny says, softly. “Are you okay?”

“No.” He says – because he has no energy to lie.

“You wanna bolt?”

“Yes.” He claps his hand over his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll come up with an emergency, you can totally blame it on me.”

“I can’t, Baker. I’m coming to one of these after a long time…” He groans. “We all used to be good friends before Rachel and I split up….” He winces at her. “I mean – I was a real dick to Steve ’n’ Amy after the split. I should think it’s an act of mercy that they still wanna associate with me – let alone be friends.” He snorts and huffs. “They genuinely want my fat pathetic ass here. _And_ , I’ve already pretty much wrecked _your_ night – so…” He sighs. “I might as well see it through.”

(It’s a twisted and fucked up a reasoning, sure. But – he’s sticking to it.)

“That’s stupid.”

He grunts in agreement, gulps the soda in one swig and exhales when the acidic bubbly taste hits the back of his throat. (It’s no whisky, but he’ll pretend it is.) “Tell me about it.” He gripes, shaking his head.

(On some level, he’s drawn Ginny down into his garbage as well, hasn’t he? Bringing her down here, siccing the bitchy twisted sister-friends of Rachel on her. Allowing them to treat her like she’s one of his flaky groupies. Even if Ginny was willing at the outset, even if she offered to come…

…it doesn’t make it right.)

“No.” She says, softly. Mike turns to look at her. She’s got a compassionate, sad smile on her face.

“No, I mean.” She repeats, gently. “That…it’s stupid you think that way.”

“Don’t…” He starts to say. _Don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t deserve it._

“You haven’t wrecked my night.” She states, cutting him off. She looks in the direction of Steven and Amy. “I don’t know about the others, but those two don’t want you here out of pity, Mike. They really care about you.” Her soft brown eyes drop to his lower body and she moistens her mouth. “And.” She gives him a lopsided smirk. “I’ve seen your ass. Naked- _ish_. In the body issue remember? It _is_ pathetic and fat - but only physically.”

Mike just looks at her.

She frowns in mock pensiveness. “Nothing a little cardio and less napping can’t fix.”

This girl, he thinks – this _woman_.   

(She’s beautiful - not pretty, because ‘pretty’ is a step below – she’s just _beautiful_. And, she’s witty and intelligent. And, when she smiles - it’s like someone puts a focus-light on her bronze skin and amplifies some sort of inner radiance that dazzles everyone - and he’s just drawn to her glow.

She could have been anything in this world. An actress, a model – hell! She’s smart enough to be lawyer. But - of all the things her heart was set on, it was baseball.

A kid’s game played by overgrown boys – Rachel once called it.

Mike just doesn’t fucking know what to make of Ginny, right now. She’s not Baker, his rookie now. She’s not Baker, his friend, right now. She’s more and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

All he knows is he _wants_ to go _there._ He can’t go there. Wherever ‘there’ is. Whatever ‘there’ is – _there_ – that holds _her_ , with her myriad of graces and secrets and…complexities…

He wants to.

But, he can’t.)

“I get the whole ex-wife thing…” She’s saying, in that kind, husky voice. Mike recuperates his attention. He had lost track of what she had been saying.

(He was lingering on her soft, shapely, pouty lips – completely bare of lipstick – when he thought of the ‘ _there’_. He wonders if she’d like it if, he nibbled on them when he kissed her. Not bite, not painfully – just a little nibble. When she moans, he wonders if the sound will match the timbre of huskiness in her voice, or if her moans are higher pitched – more feminine –

_Fuck you, Mike.)_

Mike blinks rapidly. Trying to focus on her words.

(See now, this is precisely why he shouldn’t drink. Because, alcohol fuzzes up the boundaries of what is right and wrong. And, he’s already toeing that line – despite being sober.

He’s done it before. Drowning grief and sex or alcohol or both. The first night, after Rachel told him she was done with their marriage – he went on a bender, the second night he had a threesome with two redheads, the third night he went on a bender and fucked the brains of the easiest available willing groupie.

If he adds drunkenness to jealousy, guilt, an ex-wife who doesn’t want anything to do with him, and sex-related emotions for his teammate - he will end up doing the exact same shit that Rachel accuses him of.

He’s about ready to drag the whole world into his garbage but – not. Ginny.

It’s just one night of sobriety. He’ll drown his grief in either alcohol or pussy tomorrow, whichever comes first. Even if it means, he lives through the agony of this night, sober and forced to deal with the unbearable pain he constantly lives with.

But not tonight.)

“…but, I’d say it’s a privilege to be a friend of Mike Lawson’s.” She completes. “And the people who matter know that.”

Mike looks at her and then smiles and raises his soda can. She taps hers against his and gets off the chair.

“Where are you going?” He asks, a little too quickly (because he doesn’t want her to go. He wants her to stay with him and talk and talk to him, for hours together).

She turns in the direction of the stairwell and points upstairs. “Oh, I have date with an eight-year-old game wiz.” She chirps with a happy smile that does things to him (– lower body _related_ things). “Sorry to bail on you.”

“You’re ditching your date for another one?” He jests (or attempts to, because he sincerely doesn’t want her to go anywhere.)

“Firstly, I’m _not_ your date.” Ginny says, bluntly. “And secondly, I have a rematch on this really cool game. It’s more fun than the real housewives down here.” She winks conspiringly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind.” He says, feeling a little more positive about the idea of playing videogames with kids rather than mindgames with snarky adults. (Also – more quality time with her, so win-win.)

“Hey Baker.” He says, loudly, enough for the group to hear. “FYI” He says, definitively. “I resent your assessment of my naked-ish ass.”

A lull of silence hits the group. Ginny looks mortified for a second and then she bursts into a loud laugh that has Rachel visibly fuming. Mike feels twinge of sadistic victory.

It’s probably a sign of a depreciating sanity that he does. But – he doesn’t mind.

 

 

 

Ginny’s laugh is as husky, victorious and childlike as it is infectious and by the time they’re neck and neck in some sort of ninja combat game, Mike’s just happy to sit there and watch her laugh all night.

“Hey squirt!” Mike bellows, leaning over the edge of the backrest of the couch, looking down at Barry’s owl-like face screwed up in concentration. “I’m counting on you.”

Ginny tosses a mess of curls behind her shoulder, harrumphing defiantly. Mike resists the urge to reach his hand out and -

“Not now, Uncle Mikey!” Barry screams as he veers like he’s steering the player in a duck and dive.

“Yeah!” Felicity jumps up and down on the armchair on the right. “Not now Uncle Mikey!”

The ‘manny’, Jason, is sitting on the opposing armchair, alternating between starry eyed faces and keeping a watch on Felicity’s gymnastics.

(Technically, it’s a boys v. girls game. Him and Barry on one side and Ginny and Felicity on the other – but, it’s truly, only Barry and Ginny who are playing.

At first, Mike was impressed that she’d bonded with Barry. Steven’s oldest was a prodigious child – a quiet, gentle-soul, introverted kid with a genius level IQ, who didn’t like sports as much as he liked computers and machines, and is never prone to getting wowed by anyone. Now, Barry is evidently a huge Ginny Baker fan and Mike’s jealous. 

The kid’s even asking her baseball related questions. In fact, they’re discussing baseball history, at that moment and Mike’s is one part offended and three parts amazed that Barry has a remarkable knowledge for a kid who who’s never shown an iota of interest in sports, especially baseball.  To add insult to injury, every time he tries to give input one of them shushes him.)

“Hey!” Steven comes up from behind. “What’s all the ruckus?”

He’s met with silence. Mike looks back at Steve and shrugs in helplessness.  

“Only a few privileged souls get a special pass into Barry’s game time.” Steven smiles in amusement, looking down at Ginny’s motionless head - she’s rapt in concentration.

“Mmhmm.” Ginny murmurs.

Mike starts laughing. “Baker’s basically an overgrown twelve-year-old.” Mike whispers conspiringly.

“I heard that.” She objects, making a menacing face when the obstacle she’s directing bumps against Barry’s sword.  “Move, big guy!” She snaps. “You’re blocking my exit.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” Barry retorts.

“You go Ginny Baker!” Felicity shrieks, clambering on top of the backrest like a monkey.

Both Jason and Steve rush in her direction, looking terrified, but Steven reaches his daughter first. Jason wheezes out a sigh of relief and sinks back into his chair. Felicity – is, of course, completely unconcerned with the fact that she’s going to topple off.

“Boom!” Ginny lifts her arms up jumping, when her ninja defeats Barry’s and makes it to the finish.

Mike shakes his head at her, grinning with pride when she turns smugly towards Barry and drops the joystick like she’s dropping the mic.

“GINNY WON! I WON! WE WON!” Felicity is busy wriggling up and down, flapping her arms in her father’s face.

Barry sighs and shakes his head, accepting the defeat with a smile. “Okay, but we do another game.” He says, softly.

“You got it.” Ginny sings, plonking down, sighing and laughing.

“Geez Baker!” Mike chortles, rubbing Barry’s head, watching their giggles subside. “Have you no shame? You _let_ the little kids win!”

“Hey!” Ginny points a finger at him. “I went super easy on you.”

“Yeah,” Barry looks up at him in disgust. “And you still lost!” Barry sits up, leaning into her, using the remote to reload a new game. “Can we do another team game? I’m on your team.”

Felicity leaps out of her father’s arms and jumps up and down in front of Ginny. “I’m on your team, too!”

“So, it’s just me against you three?” Mike says, them suspiciously.

He gets three identical head nods – and Ginny’s poorly hidden triumphant smirk.

“Wha-? Another, defector to Team Ginny?” Mike says, dragging Felicity into his lap. “Felicity baby, aren’t you always on my team?”

“I’M ALWAYS ON GINNY’S TEAM!!!” She blares into Mike’s ear, making his eardrums buzz.

He looks at his goddaughter with narrow eyes and as much seriousness as one can muster against a furious face of a six-year old firecracker. “Traitor.” He says.

“Game Loser!” She retorts.

“Woah!” Steven chides.

“Ohhh. Kay.” Mike drawls, throwing his palm in defeat. “Easy there, Tiger!”

Steven starts laughing and sinks back into the chair. Ginny giggles and pats Felicity’s head.

“There!” Mike accuses her. “Now, you’ve turned them both to the dark side.”

“YEAH! BECAUSE GIRLS RULE!!!” Felicity is bouncing up and down, stamping on Mike’s knees – making him grimace, flailing her arms in his face. “GIRLS WIN! WOMEN RULE! HURRAY FOR WOMENKIND!”

(Trust his six-year-old goddaughter to be the champion for feminism).

“Alright! Yeah!” Ginny laughs out, wowed by Felicity’s enthusiasm and looking a little concernedly at his knees. She opens her arms, and the little girl bounds away from him, hops, skips and jumps straight into Ginny’s arms, hugging her tight.

(There’s a something pure and satisfying about the sight.

Ginny, all carefree dimples and teeth, with a hint of impishness, absorbing and reflecting Felicity’s lively excitement and childish innocence.

It’s easily become a fond memory for Mike, and from the fact that Steve’s fished out his phone to take a spontaneous snapshot – it’s evident Felicity’s father echoes his sentiments.)

“Dad, take one with me too!” Barry – who unapologetically hates getting his picture taken - surprises both men, and wiggles to Ginny’s side.

Steven blinks for a second.

“What?” Ginny asks, looking at both men, putting her other arm around Barry’s shoulders and posing. 

“For starters,” Steven says as he captures the photo. “Barry actually staying still for a photo without making a face.”

“I don’t like getting my picture taken.” Barry remarks.

“Yeah-p.” Mike sighs.

Ginny looks at him with wonder. “He’s eight.”

Mike guffaws. “He’s a super intelligent life form who won’t let his chi be captured by the evil blackbox.”

Ginny burst into gaggling laughter at his comment. Steven shakes his head.

Barry frowns. “Okay!” Barry says, resignedly. “I guess, I can take one with you, too, Uncle Mikey.”

Steven coughing with laughter and Mike can’t wipe off his smirk. “Woah! Buddy!” He slides his way to Ginny as Barry climbs into his lap, and Felicity adjusts her position on Ginny’s lap. “I think, I’m gonna cry.”

He stretches his arm around on the backrest as Ginny skirts closer to him, carrying Felicity with her. “Has the sun risen from the west today?” He continues. “Has superman worn his underwear on the inside at last?”

“Uncle Mikey!” Barry protests, red-faced.

Ginny’s flopped back against the backrest, that flurry of curls fluttering over his forearm, holding her stomach, whole body shaking in hysterics. Felicity’s bouncing up and down giggling and clapping. Ginny is still shaking when she sits up straight, shaking her head at him, eyes watering.

Mike sighs inwardly, thinking how he could listen to her laugh forever. He grins at her and wiggles his eyebrows, when she gathers herself. She bursts out laughing again, leaning against his shoulder, covering her face.

“C’mere Rookie.” He snakes his arm around her shoulder and tugs her closer. She’s all hiccups and sighs as she lines her side up against his. She’s warm and feels right against him – and he’d kiss her forehead if Steven wasn’t giving them both the gimlet eye over the posed phone.

Mike relaxes his arm around her shoulder and places it back on the couch. Barry and Felicity pull themselves towards each other, leaning back against Mike and Ginny with proper dignified smiles for the first couple of shots.

Then the antics start.

Both kids start pulling faces that have Ginny and Mike in hoots. Ginny joins them in the funny faces competition, and then there’s a whole series of mock up shots they do with all four of them trading places, doing goofy poses and actions, while Steven happily clicks away.

By the time they’re done, the kids are in a heated argument with their father who unrelentingly orders them to go to bed.

“Oh. I forgot.” Mike reaches for his phone and hands it to Ginny. “Evelyn called.”

 “Sorry guys?” Ginny frowns, she looks at Barry and Felicity with a kind, respectful face. “But naptime, is important. It’s when you grow and become strong. Besides, I gotta call my friend. D’you mind?”

“Nope.” Barry says, curling his small fist for a fist bump. Ginny smiles and responds in kind as she stands. She bends to receive a kiss on her cheek from Felicity who whispers something in her ear that has Ginny laughing.

“Maybe.” She says, nodding at Felicity, winking conspiringly at the six-year-old who seems quite satisfied with her reply.

 

In the midst of, all their monkey business, one end of the couch had shifted forward to cut her exit. Mike tries to push the couch back, to make way for her, bracing his feet on the coffee table and using his weight, but Ginny has already had an impatient, shapely leg swinging over his knee, sideways.

He gulps and flinches back as that fantastic ass of hers almost hits his nose. He gulps as those endless columns of bronze skin trap his thigh, before she moves again. He gulps when he grabs just above her knees, to steady her when she wobbles as she gets the other leg over – the smooth skin over hard muscle, radiating heat into the calluses of his palm. She winces at him in gratitude, completely unaffected. He gulps when she cavorts barefoot towards the window on the other side of the room, her shoes having been shrugged off a while back, probably stuck under the displaced couch.

When he turns around, Steven’s giving him the hawkeye-face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Steven says, shrugging and kissing Felicity’s head, after she gives in and agrees to go to bed. He, suddenly, frowns in Ginny’s direction. Mike follows his gaze and finds his rookie flailing her arms about pacing up and down along the length of the wall.

“No! Evie!” Ginny’s whisper is anything but soft, intermingled with hisses. “No! I feel so goddamn helpless! That’s all I’m saying!”

Ginny does a double take, when she sees them both looking at her. She plasters a sheepish smile. She makes a gesture for privacy and all but runs out of the room.

“I wonder what that’s about.” Steven remarks.

Mike shrugs.

“Uncle Mikey.” Barry says, turning to him. “Ginny’s cool.”

“Yeah bud, I know.” Mike smiles knowingly.

“Can we get tickets for your next game at Petco?”

“Wha- seriously?” Mike looks at Barry blankly. “You actually wanna come? I thought you don’t like baseball.”

Barry makes a serious, contemplative face like he’s mulling it over. “She’s gonna pitch right?” Barry says, shrugging. “Sure, I’d like to come.”

He looks at Steven, who puts his palms up defensively.

“Uncle Mikey!” Felicity says, crawling to him and cupping her hand in his ear. “You gotta promise me something.”

“Yeah baby, anything for you.”

She looks about nervously at her dad and brother, like she’s checking if they’re eavesdropping and then whispers in his ear. “You have to marry Ginny Baker.”

She promptly scampers off the couch and grabs her big brother’s hand and looks at him with a various serious face for a six-year old. Mike wonders why he doesn’t find the idea preposterous enough to laugh it off.

 

She’s pinching her lip, pacing up and down, fluffing out her hair and blowing out deep breaths when he finds her. It doesn’t take a genius to see that she’s worked up about something.

He gave himself ten minutes before he decided to go after her. He leans against the wall at the far end of the corridor and watches her, quietly. He waits, unsure whether to prod or give her space. She keeps shaking her head, like she’s shaking out thoughts and rolling her shoulders like she’s ready to pull punches.

She stops suddenly – facing the wall and starts peering at the artistically arranged family photo frames that are hanging on the walls.

It seems to help her calm down.

He watches her scan through them, sighing and smiling at several of what appear to be Barry’s and Felicity’s baby pictures until she hovers over a pair of medium-sized picture frames. Mike pushes himself away from the wall and walks towards her.

She’s staring at photos from Steven and Amy’s weddings. The ones with him in it. There’s just one with him and the groom. Two with both him and Rachel with the couple.

Ginny reaches out, places a finger over one of the pictures.

Their loud, laughter seems frozen in time. Him, Rachel and Amy are carrying the groom in a mock haul to the altar. Mike remembers that the picture was taken after the vows, staged by the photographer. Now, it seems, like some sort of cosmic irony – compared to what truthfully went down that day. 

Mike is overcome with a wave of nostalgia that is soon replaced by a sense of loss and longing when he thinks of happier times. He feels that invisible knife twist – not a quite as intensely as before, but it twists all the same - when he sees Rachel’s face. Her face was softer then – but it’s evident that she hasn’t aged too much.

Ginny’s clipped fingernail stubs and scratches at his face – it’s like she’s trying to feel for something when she drags the tip of the finger over the glass covering.

She’s so entranced, she’s not aware that he’s there, right behind her. Even he can see their reflections in the glass frame of the photograph -  and the dreamy look in her eyes. It’s only when he notices that her finger is hovering over his clean-shaven jawline that he realizes she’s trying to see picture his beard.

He drops his head to her ear and rasps. “Whatcha’ lookin’ at, Rookie?”

She freezes, turns her head at him with wide, embarrassed eyes, she snaps her hand back like it’s been burned.

“Erm…”

He guffaws. “Look at that handsome fella!” He points to his photograph.

“Yeah,” She says, smile creeping up on her face. “He sure _was_ something.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, I mean – you said it yourself. Different image. Up on my wall?”

Her eyebrows are lifted, her eyes are shining with mirth and those dimples are peeking.

“So you finally admit it.” He narrows his eyes at her. “You had me up on your wall.”

The corners of her mouth twitch, she drops her eyelids, subtle hints of pink blooming over the peaks of her cheeks.

“Admit it, you fantasized about that guy.” He mocks. “You totally wanted Mike Lawson to show up at your door and declare that his undying love for you. That he had learned about the existence of the teenage Ginny from some magical dream.”

Her face goes blank, like he’s unearthed some dirty little… _holy fuck!_ He cocks his head at her and gives her a lopsided smile. “No way.” He says, slowly.

“Shut up.”

“No way!” He smacks her back. She stumbles under the impact, grabbing his arm for support.

“No fucking way!” He’s doubling over with laughter, gripping her elbow to hold her steady.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says, crossing her arms, tipping her nose up stubbornly and looking at the pictures.

“Look at you all blushing!” He teases in a sing-song tone. “Look at your ears.” He tweaks her ears that have gone red. She fights off his hand, sucking her lips in a paltry effort to stop smiling. She’s closing her eyes and huffing out repeatedly, her curls tossing about angrily as she shakes her head.

“Oh!” Mike sighs, shaking his head at her condescendingly, placing a hand over his heart. “Oh the unrequited and secret yearnings of Young Ginny Baker.”

“Oh look!” She scoffs. “Mike Lawson the poet.”

“Come on!” He sings, elbowing her arms. She shoves him back. It triggers another spurt of laughter.

“Okay!” She assents, putting her hands up with a goofy embarrassed smile.

Ten different shades of adorable – this girl (- This _woman.)_

“Okay!” She huffs, straightening her face, and gives him a goofy, redfaced, smile. “Okay, I admit it. I had a crush.”

“Aww.” He coos, twiddling her ears. She swats his arm away.

“A small one. A _teenage_ crush.”

“Okay.” He sniggers.

“There’s only so many guilty pleasures young Ginny Baker was allowed, y’know.” She says, matter-of-factly.

“Hey!” He puts his arms up. “No judgment.”

“Besides, what does it matter now?” She sticks her chin out, stubbornly. “I grew out of it, well before we met.”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I totally grew out of it.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey Baker?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’d we get married, in your fantasy?” He jokes. “Was it a tropical island or…a baseball field?”

She goes red again.

“Holy motherfu-!” He exclaims. “You dreamt up a wedding?”

“No.” She whimpers, snapping her eyes shut as though she’s wishing him away. (Mike also wonders what Felicity will think of that if she learned it. He reckons his goddaughter would be delirious.)

“Okay.” He gives in, squeezing her shoulder. “Tell me something, though.”

“Nope!”

“Were you wearing a dress or a baseball uniform?”

“Would you stop that! I did not imagine anything, okay!”

“Okay.” He stops laughing and looks at her. She won’t meet his eyes.

( – but dammit, she’s just too cute for him to resist, he almost wants to…)

“Everything alright?” He asks – distracting himself.

“Yeah, everything’s good.” She says, a little preoccupied with giggles.

“No, I meant.” He points to the phone. “With Evelyn. Sounded urgent.”

“No, Nah!” She makes a dismissive face and says. “No, it wasn’t. Evelyn was just checking that I hadn’t gone AWOL again.”

She’s not giving him the whole truth, but he’s never been the sort to push. He smirks while she hands him the phone.

“Baker.” He says, sighing.

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy that -” He says, sincerely. “ – you’re happy.”

She frowns, confusion lines appearing between her eyebrows.

“I mean –“ He groans. “Whatever you’re doing, therapy or friends or whatever – I’m happy that you’re not so…”

“Wound up?” She prompts.

“No, it’s not that. Things have been pretty rocky between us, lately. I’m just happy we’re friends, at the end of it. Look, I know I underplay your situation, but I know this is not a joke. What you’re doing? What you face on a daily basis? This game is hard. No matter how many sacrifices you make, it’s never enough. God knows, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve lost focus.”

“At your game?”

“Never the game.” He sighs, resignedly – because that is one thing that’s true. He loved this game – it was everything to him.

“Then family? You mean? Like marriage.”

“I don’t know.” He runs his hand into his hair. “She said baseball always came first. I mean, I know this. I screwed up – bad enough, for her to want out – bad enough, that she won’t give me any more chances to make it up to her.”

An unreadable expression crosses her face as she drops her head and folds her arms. Mike doesn’t understand it. He feels like he’s hit some raw nerve.

She sighs and gets a distant look. She purses her lips and then twists her mouth around before stating, rather dispassionately. “Yeah, well. We all make mistakes. I – it’s like you say, this game is hard. Maybe – you didn’t realize how hard it was on her.”

Her words make no sense and Mike wonders why she looks so disappointed, suddenly – why her eyes are glistening, like she’s echoing some emotional sentiment.

“Hey…” he says, in all seriousness. “Thanks for doing this.”

She sighs and smiles up at him – her eyes softening. “You’re welcome.”

Mike lets out a tired and relieved sigh. “So, what do you say? We finish dinner and then get outta here, for good?”

“I think.” She sighs. “That’s a very smart idea.”

“I am a smart guy.” He affirms

She shakes her head, smiling at him in amusement. “Okay.” She relents with a giggle.  

“Maybe wear your shoes first?” He raises his eyebrows.

She looks down at her feet surprised and rushes back to the room to fetch them.

 _This girl –_ He thinks, smiling in her wake.

His life can’t be all bad, he thinks, if he has a friend in her.

 

* * *

 

 

Something has changed for the better, Mike surmises, with hope, when he regards Ginny and David in conversation at dinner. (Maybe because:

 a - he calculates only two more hours of this…

and b - he’s in a better mood after having genuine fun with his godchildren and Ginny.)

For starters, he can tolerate the sight of the man who stole his wife and think of him as a him as _David,_ without wanting to commit a felony.

By the time first course rolls out at dinner, Mike finds that he’s also tolerating the knife-twisting better, every time he looks at Rachel, or meets her eye.

As a bonus, Lori and Cassie had toned down their theatrics and weren’t really, too involved with conversation, as much as they were with eating and helping themselves to more wine. Sam and Andy were more talkative and less tense now that their wives had gone relatively quiet. Mike was in a social mood himself - he was joking and laughing, having a fair time with his old friends as they talk about stuff – mainly baseball.

Rachel and Amy were engrossed in a conversation that Ginny was having with David on kids with heart diseases – or something of the sort.

“…so that’s what we realized.” David is saying to Ginny. “Is if we could approach the surgeries like an assembly line, you minimize the cost per procedure.”

“So.” Ginny pinches her lip. “What about the more expensive ones?”

David shrugs. “I wish we could fix them all.”

“I know, right.” She says, sounding doleful.

“Amy’s actually our lifesaver with all the fundraising. She’s brilliant at finding loopholes for us so we can launder money for pro-bono work.” David smirks. “Legal laundering of course.”

“You’re a real Robin Hood.” Ginny commends with a smile.

“Yes, I like to think so.” David throws a charming smile at Rachel. “My maid Marion’s smile makes it all worthwhile.”

Ginny throws a nervous glance towards Mike, which he catches because he’s been watching her. He gives her a reassuring nod.

“Y’know.” David remarks, unaware that Mike has an ear towards them. “I never believed in love at first sight, until three years ago. That’s when I met her.”

Ginny frowns. Mike notices how her eyes shift to Rachel who is completely oblivious to her scrutiny and starts to blab about some trip she took with David to Mexico on a network sponsored program.

“So um…” Ginny asks, moistening her lips. “When was that again?”

When Rachel tells her the month, Ginny leans back, frowning.

“Why?”

“Oh no –“ Ginny says. “I was at San Antonio at the time – I uh – think that’s when I had just signed on with my agent. Amelia Slater? That’s about the time I got involved with the CHF.” She shrugs. “It was actually one of the first charities I got on board with.”

Rachel and David smile at her, and Mike would have found their similar expressions something to gripe about, except – he knew for a fact from the way Ginny was speaking that she was lying. (The San Antonio story might have been genuine – but the reason why she asked Rachel that question wasn’t related to any of that crap she just pelted out.)

“Hey Mikey…” Cassie’s voice sang over the conversation. “Wasn’t that about the time your knees started giving way and they bumped you to triple A?”

Ginny’s frown deepens.

“Just for a month, babe.” Andy says, his voice coloured with uneasiness and alarm. “It was spring training, hon, he was back in the middle of the season.”

“Too bad y’all didn’t make the playoffs that year.” Lori scoffs “Maybe if Mike wasn’t off bonking everything that moved they might have made it.”

Ginny frowns. Mike refuses to dignify Lori’s taunts with any comments.

They’re distracted, thankfully, when the servers all file in, bringing in the second course. Steven taps his glass with a knife, calling for everyone’s attention as the plates are all arranged.

“So, guys.” He says, smiling at them all. “We just, we really want to thank you all for coming here. We know – you’re all very busy, and the fact that you…” He looks at Mike. “…were kind enough, to share this evening with us. We want you to know how much we appreciate it.”

Amy smiles and reaches for her husband’s hand.

“Erm.” Stevens says, smiling at his wife. “Y’know Andy asked me why we’d want to celebrate our tenth anniversary with friends, instead of, I dunno – going on a trip or something. It’s just – we wouldn’t have had it any other way. You people here, at this table – I’ve known you all for these wonderful years.” Steven sighs. “But, only one of you is my best friend.” He looks at Amy. Amy blushes.

Steven leans and kisses his wife earning cheers from everyone.

“Y’know Amy and I are dorks about this one thing.” Steven continues. “We spend a great deal of our free time doing rewatches of _It’s a Wonderful Life_.  At the end of the movie when Harry Bailey toasts his brother George. He says _…to my big brother George, the richest man in town…_ and the angel leaves an inscription on the book which is… _remember, no man is a failure who has friends._ ” Steven pauses and looks at all of them, even at Ginny. “My father always said something along those lines. He said - _a man is only as rich as his true friends_. And Amy and I – we share that belief. We both couldn’t think of any other way than to spend it with the people who made this journey, so special for us both.”

Ginny’s looking a little teary-eyed. Mike makes a not to tease her about it later when he exchanges a happy glance with her and they start clapping softly.

“So.” Steven says, looking sheepish. “That’s all from me. Go back to your food.”

Mike starts to feel hopeful that maybe the rest of the night, might go without any further discomfort, until the third course comes around, Cassie’s sighing loudly - making a show of  looking repeatedly at Mike first and then at Ginny. It takes him all of five seconds to deduce that Cassie was completely drunk and Lori wasn’t far behind.

Mike groans in apprehension.

“Brace yourself.” He mutters under breath, using the waiter placing the third course in front of him as an excuse to lean towards Ginny so she can hear.

As if on cue, Cassie starts. “Y’know Ginny. We used to have these special dinners, often in the past. Just us couples. But…” She points to Rachel and Mike. “…after these two split. Mikey stopped showing up. If he ever did, he was always late and drunk, or sober…”

“…or showed up with some skank on his arm.” Lori adds. “Like, absolutely no respect.”   

“I think this is the first time I’m seeing him in the last two years when he’s not completely hammered.” Cassie sneers.

Ginny doesn’t seem bothered. She reaches for her drink and sips it loudly, grimacing at them.

“I guess, he’s really…grown.” Cassie says, shooting an accusing glance at him.

“Yeah I mean…” Lori drawls. “We use to be good friends…this was like a close knit circle.”

“With scope for new people.” Amy says, sounding testy. She looks at both David and Ginny as though reinforcing her point. 

Cassie sighs sadly. “It just feels weird now, though. Like it’s not the same.”

And awkward silence ensues, as Cassie trails off, staring into space - like she’s thinking. Just as Andy visibly exhales in relief, she starts of again. “So Ginny, the whole pool vine video thing? Was that staged? One of Scooby Doos brilliant plans?”

“Scooby Doo?” Ginny asks.

“Her assistant – whatshisname – the Chinese guy?”

“Eliot,” Ginny says, sounding irked, “and he’s Korean.”

“Yeah – he still with that band of this?”

“I didn’t know Eliot had a band.” Mike mumbles, looking down at his food.

“Yeah, he’s invited me to go listen.” She replies, in the same manner. She looks up at Cassie with a pleasant smile and speaks up “Nope, the pool thing was all me.”

“They any good?” Mike mutters, reaching for some bread. He glances at Steven, who’s doing the hawkeye-face again.

“Hope so. You wanna come?” Her words are muffled as she munches.

“Sure.” Mike mumbles, looking quizzically at Steven.

(Steven gives him that peculiar look, that’s starting to get real fucking annoying now.)

“It was genius.” Cassie slurs. “I wish I could get my starlets to pull off a tantrum and make them look that good.”

“It wasn’t a…” Ginny starts. Mike looks at her, telling her silently: not worth the effort. She catches on and then plasters a smile and shakes her head. “Never mind.”

“What about the ESPN photoshoot?” Lori slurs. “Was that your agent’s idea as well?”

“Erm some parts of it.” Ginny sighs, sounding tired.

“Well that one’s pure genius.” Cassie cackles. “I mean – taking the whole nude selfie thing by the balls and turning it on his head.”

“Yeah…” Lori makes an ugly grimace. “I think Sam spent a lot of time in the bathroom with that magazine – turning stuff on heads. Especially that picture of you pitching…naked.”

Sam chokes. Mike stops eating and narrows his eyes at Lori. Andy avoids looking up. Steve and Amy look like identically uncomfortable twins. Rachel looks – he can’t figure out what she’s thinking because she’s got a small smile but he can’t see her eyes and David – David’s the only sucker who looks like he doesn’t have an opinion.

Mike knows better than to look at Ginny – if he does, he won’t be giving her the chance to fend herself. And knowing her, she always reels – just a bit, just before she retaliates.

“Y’know.” Lori drawls. “If the idea wasn’t to sexualize you – then I think they missed the point. At least with my husband, they did.”

“Lori!” Amy hisses at her.

Sam had gone completely red – right up to his ears.

Mike shifts his thigh to the left, allowing his knee to touch hers. He exhales in relief when she presses her thigh back into his.

“Can we talk about something else?” Rachel says, looking up. She looks oddly pleased, with what’s happening, though.

Mike frowns. “I’m sorry.” Mike interrupts, putting his hand up, silencing David who is – no doubt – going to say something elegant and intelligent, which Mike cannot bring himself to give a fuck about.

“You agree with Lori?” He says.

“I didn’t say anything.” Rachel says, looking around the table.

“Rachel, I know that look.” Mike contends.

“I’m not giving any look.” Rachel defends, her green eyes snapping at his, daring him.

The way Ginny knocks her knees twice at his thigh, he knows what she’s saying: Let it go.

There’s an uncomfortable silence until Ginny subtly nudges her napkin, letting it drop. She makes a big show of ducking to pick it up but mumbles under breath – “It’s their anniversary, play nice.”

Mike scowls at Rachel. She promptly returns the glower.

“Maybe you should say something.” He hears Ginny whisper, her head practically in his lap.

“Why me?” He mutters back.

“Speeches are _your_ thing.” She murmurs.

Mike rolls his eyes when she comes up, flashing a look. Mike yields. He garners up a big smile and looks at Amy. “Why don’t I propose a toast? Huh? To our hosts?”

“Yeah because everything’s about what Mikey wants.” Cassie drones, rolling her eyes. “After all the bear came out of hibernation and decided he was part of his old pack today!”

Mike clenches his jaw and picks up his glass of water. Everyone follows suit with their drinks.

“It’s uh…” He completely blanks out. Ginny widens her eyes at him. Mike drinks a gulp quickly and clears his throat, lifting his glass up again. “Sorry,” He says quickly. “Had a bit of a dry mouth there.” He catches his Rookie’s not-so-subtle eye roll and bares his teeth at her, pretending to smile.

She gets the message, and narrows her eyes at him.

“It’s um…It’s very rare, that – people find a love like yours. I’ve known you two, forever – and I’ve never known a man more committed or besotted with his wife than Stevie, here. And, Amy – Steve’s always been great, but you make him better. I feel privileged – to call you two my friends.”

Amy brightens up, Steven looks grateful. They exchange sweet smiles and a kiss.

“To Steven and Amy.” Mike tips the glass.

“To Steven and Amy.” Everyone echoes. Mike gulps his water in relief. 

“Damn.” Ginny breathes as she grins and claps. “You really could be in the movies.”

“So, I’ve heard.” He smiles, when she throws him a surreptitious, coy glance.

Mike checks his watch when the fourth course is placed in front of him. He’s already full, though his companion’s coolly wolfing down her food. He’d be amused if he wasn’t in mental a debate whether to drive down tonight or in the early morning.

He asks her the same in hushed tones, leaning closer to her.

“You look tired, Old Man.” She points out. “I’m not joking.”

“So do you. Morning then?” He suggests. “We should catch some winks. You wanna split now?”

She looks disappointed. “What comes next?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “More food? Amy never does less than seven courses.”

That seems to interest her. “When’s dessert?”

“After the next course.”

Ginny looks at him with a matter of fact face. “Then…duh.”

“Okay – after dessert then.” He chuckles softly and straightens up.

Andy, who’s sitting on the opposite side of Ginny remarks loudly, drawing their attention. “Y’know. It’s interesting to watch you two, like this. On a personal level.”

“I’m sorry?” Mike says, grimacing at him.

“I mean the pitcher-catcher relationship.” Andy says. “It’s vital. You two have your on-field codes and signals, but there’s so much more, right? Body language, trust. I’m looking at you two and it’s like you two have your own secret language. You might as well be having your own conversation. It’s fascinating.”

Rachel – and Mike’s absolutely certain of this here – she looks pale. Stevie’s got the hawkeye glare fixed on both him and Ginny. Sam and David are leaning back and showing interest in what Andy says. Lori and Cassie they just look bitchy, drunk and confused. Amy’s the only woman whose beaming at Ginny.

“Why?” Ginny asks, suspiciously.

Mike realizes she’s misunderstood Andy’s intention of questioning. “What he means is.” Mike says, leaning back, because the direction this conversation is headed, doesn’t bother him as much as the previous one did. “He’s interested in knowing how about our on-field connection. Batterymen psychology.”

That somehow, motivates Sam. He’s a henpecked sonnovabitch, but it’s baseball that gets him talking, that’s for sure.

“Yeah Ginny.” Sam says. “Tell us.”

“This is off the record, Ginny. I’m just trying to understand it, for personal interest.” Andy says, assuring her.  “You are the first female ball player in the major leagues. And, he was your starting catcher. What was it like?”

Ginny looks at Mike. He shrugs.

“Um…Mike was kinda saddled with me – in the beginning.” She says, hesitantly. She winces. “I guess?”

The men start to chuckle. Amy smiles. Rachel and the other two women remain impassive.

“It’s true.” Mike grins. “I didn’t know what to make of her.”

“Betcha’ ya figured it out real quick, Mikey!” Lori quacks. Cassie sniggers.

Ginny ignores them. “But – I guess we sort of bonded. He gave a lot of speeches.” Ginny widens her eyes as she picks at her food. “A lot.”

Mike shrugs, giving a smug smile.

“Was it an instant connection?” Sam asks.

Both Cassie and Lori snort together.

“No, what I meant was…” Sam looks sheepish. “To call for a pitch inside and set it up to fool the hitter that it’s outside…I read that it takes years of building that rapport.”

“Yeah.” Andy agrees. “It’s a strategy within a strategy. That’s not a joke. It’s no secret that managers sacrifice offensive power for the sake of a better pitcher-catcher combination.”

She shrugs.

“Mike?” David is the one who asks the question. “Don’t you have a comment?”

“It was easy.” Mike nods, pensively, ignoring the unkind glances Lori and Cassie are throwing at David.  “But – I don’t know, if it was just instant. Baker was unique in that way – I mean – there was so much attention and drama – and there was all that pressure on her – but, she’s a receptive player.” Ginny smiles at him gratefully, Mike smiles back at her. He shakes his head. “I can’t say it happened overnight, but yeah, it was easier with her.”

Ginny nods. “Same for me.”

Lori snorts sarcastically. “I’m sure.”

Mike snaps a glare at her.

“Do you think compatibility has a play?” David says. “I mean, it is like partnership, right? Like I preferentially operate with my team, my assisting surgeons, the nurses, anaesthesiologists.”

“Actually.” Sam says. “I’d call it a marriage, right? I mean that in a platonic sense, I mean even if you were a guy, Ginny – I’d use the same term.”

“I suppose, what I’m trying to understand,” David says. “Is does it require similar mindsets?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Mike answers, honestly – somehow finding it within him to look at David without wanting to punch him in the face. “Baker and I don’t agree on a lot of things. It’s all compromise…”

Lori clucks her tongue. Cassie coughs.

“And sacrifice.” Steven adds, emphatically. throwing warning looks at Lori.

“And - discipline and self-control.” Ginny adds. “I’m sure there are days he wants to rip my head off.”

“Like in a marriage.” Lori sings, softly, looking away from Sam.

Sam scowls, Mike wonders if he’s thinking of conjugicide, right then.

Mike grits his teeth at Lori and then tips his head at Ginny. “I’m sure there are days you wanna rip off my head, too.”

“Just that beard, Old Man.” She quips.

“Yeah!” Amy chimes, quickly. “The seventies called, Mikey, they want the beard back.”

Laughter bursts out among all – except for three specific people. Lori and Cassie, he gets, but Mike thought that at least Rachel might find humour in that.

 “Yeah, well.” Mike sighs, with a smile “Sorry guys. This…” He strokes his beard. “Takes discipline and self-control as well.”

“Two things you lacked as a husband.” Cassie comments.

Rachel drops her fork and gives him an alarming glance with a silent plea.

Mike exhales to calm himself.

“Is it different with Duarte?” Andy asks, quickly, throwing his wife a stern look.

“Yeah – but not in a bad way or anything. It’s just new.” Ginny says, carefully, eyeing Lori and Cassie who are no longer making a show of hiding their spitefulness.

“Hmm.” Andy nods

“Mike’s been around longer.” Ginny says, smiling at Mike. “He’s more experienced, I guess.”

Cassie barks out a derisive laugh. Mike looks at her with annoyance. “Oh that he is.” Lorie says, starting gaggle, maniacally. “Been around…experienced.” Lori reiterates, and then hacks out that stupid laugh again.

“No, I meant that…” Ginny says, looking irritated. “I learn a lot from him.”

“I’m sure he’s a _great_ teacher.” Lori comments, acerbically.

“Yeah, I mean.” Cassie adds, sneering. “I’m sure he _loved_ teaching you.”

Ginny snaps her head at the women, justifiably fuming.

“Guys.” Amy warns them both. “We’re all having a nice conversation...here.”

“I’m sorry.” Cassie coughs. “Sorry, I was just finding it interesting how he finds compromise, and discipline and…self control with his pretty new groupie.”

The table rattles, with clinking cutlery, stunning every one into silence. It’s only then that Mike realizes that he’s slammed his fist on it.

“Baker.” Mike grinds out. “Is no _groupie_. She’s a ballplayer.”

(He can’t even look at Ginny. Just when, he started feeling okay about bringing her here and exposing her to this drama – just when, he thought, she might leave with some positive memories of this night yet…

He’s ashamed.)

“And you owe her an apology.” Steven says, looking at Cassie with a plain face.

Cassie shirks it off and looks at her husband. Andy’s looking at his wife with disappointment.

“Okay! Fine. Sure! I apologize.” Cassie growled. 

Lori rants. “First woman in the major leagues…we get it. We know. We’re against feminism and all other hard-working obscure women who are playing with the Old Boys Club if we criticize Saint Ginny Baker, right? The epitome of the liberated invincible woman!”

Rachel throws pleading expressions at Lori and Cassie, but those two are either too drunk or too stupid to leave it. Mike bites his tongue and looks at Steven and Amy. Both are leaning back, holding their breath. Beside him, he sees Ginny close her eyes and take a deep breath.

“Ginny.” Amy says, sounding diffident. “I – I really don’t know how to apologize for…”

Ginny’s eyes fly open and she looks at Amy in disbelief. “Why are you apologizing?” She snaps.

Amy’s lower lip quivers. Steven reaches a hand out to his wife. Ginny’s face suddenly falls. “Shit! I’m sorry, Amy – I didn’t mean to…”

Mike sighs and catches Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny purses her mouth and looks at him. He looks at her with the most apologetic expression he can muster.

“No… please…” Amy’s voice wavers as she tears up. “You can’t be nice about this, it only makes it worse.”

“Wait a minute.” Lori interrupts, looking at her sister in disbelief. “Are you apologizing? For us? I don’t care that she’s Ginny Baker, Amy – you know the rules Amy. We stand with our friends!”

“That’s it.” Mike says, he throws his napkin on the table. He looks up at Steven. “I’m sorry, buddy. I may have to put up with their crap but Ginny doesn’t. We’re leaving.” He pulls his chair back.

“I’m fine, Mike.” Ginny snaps, grimacing at him when she speaks. She’s got her lips pulled back – even her dimples look angry.

“Well, I’m not.” He says, and makes to rise, but Ginny snaps her arm to his chair. She glances towards Amy who’s almost falling apart and Steven who’s closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Lori looks genuinely remorseful, suddenly. She straightens her face and sighs out long and hard.

“I’m sorry.” Lori says, in an even tone, looking at Ginny. “You know. That was harsh. I am really, really sorry. Ginny. Don’t think we don’t know how this comes off. We know we’re not being fair to you. For, what it’s worth, we did not mean to attack you. We admire you, really, we do.”

“Then what the hell was that about?” Mike bellows, making everyone jump.

Lori’s eyes snap to him, spitting venom. “That was about her sitting next to the biggest lying, cheating, man-whore in America!”

“Enough.” Steven bites out.

“Yes.” Rachel says, loudly. “Enough.”

David just – stays silent, keeping his arms folded, looking disapprovingly at the women.

“No, Rachel!” Cassie interjects. “I don’t know how you can tolerate the sight of a man who blatantly flaunts his promiscuous vulgarity in your face. He brings these stupid, noisy, barely legal pathetic little floozies to our social events, like he’s trying to prove that he can get any woman he wants – that you meant nothing to him.”

Mike closes his eyes but he can feel the hole that Ginny’s burning into his face.

“Because he knows, they’re nothing compared to you.” Lori jumps in. “So that’s why he goes and pulls this stunt today. He brings the most famous woman on the planet as his arm candy – just to spite you? For what? Being happy? Finding someone who respects you and treats you right –!”

“Lori!” Sam growled.

The table rattles again, and this time it’s not Mike.

It’s Amy.

Ginny gasps. He feels her hand leave his chair.

When Mike opens his eyes – the first thing he sees are Rachel’s panicked green ones. Rachel shakes her head at him, her eyes filling with tears. He looks at Amy and shakes his head at her – willing her not to speak up.

But she’s already extended a palm out to silence him. She’s glaring wrathfully at her sister and spits out. “Stop this!” She hisses, in an undulating voice. “I will not sit by quietly and let you two treat him like that. He has done nothing to deserve your malice!”

 “He’s just lucky, California is a no-fault state.” Lori bites back. “I’d have stripped him down to his underwear, y’know. It’s a good thing I’m not practicing!” She looks sharply at Ginny. “Then you wouldn’t have to by a magazine to  see his sorry naked ass!”

“If California wasn’t a no-fault state!” Amy’s voice is shrill and shivering, she looks at Rachel. “A lot of things would have gone differently in that divorce.”

“What? Why?” Lori frowns. “How can you say that? Rachel is _our_ friend.”

“Okay.” David intervenes. He looks at Mike with some form of revulsion that Mike knows he doesn’t deserve. “I think, that’s enough.”

Amy ignores him, she looks at Rachel, her small body shaking with anger. “Rachel, I will not let him be treated like this.” She warns. “Not in my house.”

“Why are you taking it out on her?” Lori shrieks.

“He cheated!” Cassie shrieks, pointing to Mike. “I mean come on –! Am I the only one who saw that picture of him with those…women at – at the time of the playoffs that year? He was in New York! Rachel was in LA!”

“Oh.” Amy says blandly, looking incredulously at Rachel.

Rachel looks petrified – and Mike knows why. He knows what that tone means; Rachel knows what that tone means. It’s Amy’s cautious, sarcastic voice – the one she uses in a courtroom and only few are privy to that knowledge.

Rachel is frozen, looking at him with a pathetic, remorseful expression.

Lori looks confused, right then. Apparently, Cassie doesn’t know her well enough. They look at Rachel sympathetically.

“You may think you’ve got the strong woman act up, Rach.” Cassie says. “But we’re your friends. We know what he did.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t understand.” Lori grinds out looking at her sister. “Why are you on his side? Steven said it himself.” She points to David. “He respects Rachel. He cares for her happiness.”

“In a different context.” Steven grinds out.

“Oh my god.” Ginny whispers.

Mike’s heart plummets. Of course, Ginny thinks he cheated as well. He’s never given her cause to think he’s anything other than a philanderer, womanizer and who’ll fuck anything with boobs and a hole.

“What, _you’re_ surprised?” Cassie roars, looking at Ginny incredulously. “I thought you worked with the guy. Don’t you see those silly twats throwing their boobs in his face? Did you think something as simple as wedding band would stop him?”

The sound of his chair scraping on an Italian marble floor is pierces the silent room. Mike rises and makes to leave – because he can handle everything, but he can’t handle another fracture in Ginny’s opinion of him.

Her hand reaches out to his arm, stopping him.

Mike looks at her, gearing up for judgement but he’s taken by surprise. She’s looking up at him vacant eyes – and there’s no hatred, or judgement or anything of the sort.

If anything – there’s pity.

She squeezes his forearm and shakes her head. As he watches her intense brown-eyes, filled with emotion – with compassion, Mike feels a cold shudder of dread pass in his heart. He feels paralyzed – numb.

The next moments unfold as though in slow motion.

“Because he didn’t cheat.” Ginny’s voice is as hollow as it is soft but in that painful silence, it might as well be a roar.

 _No. don’t say it._ He wants to say. But, his voice is stuck in his throat.

Ginny turns her head to Rachel and speaks with a vehement coldness that he can feel. “ _You_ cheated.” She speaks Rachel and then looks at David. David looks away.

“And _you_ let them believe it was him?” Her voice is quaking with latent anger when she turns her eyes on Mike again.

Mike closes his eyes. He can hear Rachel’s soft gasp.

When he opens his eyes, Ginny’s looking up at him with wet eyes. There’s pain, and an accusation in them. “And _you_ …?” She chokes on her words. “You just let her get away with it…every time?”

Her grip loosens over his arm and slides down. Mike instinctively grabs her hand before it slumps away. He looks up at Rachel. His ex-wife’s green eyes look confused at first but then she looks hesitantly at Ginny and Amy and then tears roll down her pale cheeks.

Mike turns his face to Ginny, look pleadingly into her deep, lovely brown eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for, though. He just feels helpless – cut adrift – anchorless, again.

“She is… _was_ …my wife.” Mike chokes out the words – they are whispered words, but everyone hears it. Rachel lets out a sob as soon as he says it.

Because really – what else can he say?

Ginny smiles at him. It’s a cold, dry smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Guess it’s true what they say.” She almost sings the words in a harsh, cynical tone. “Love makes fools of us all.”

She looks down and shakes her head. “I’m sorry.” Ginny’s hand drops from his. She rises and pushes the chair back. “I’m so sorry.” She says to Steven and Amy. “I – I need some air.”

Mike’s legs don’t move. He’s stays fixed in that spot when she walks out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you feel and maybe there'll be some kissing.  
> Also I promised myself to nip this here....but the chapters are getting away from me....but there's more...?


	5. Chapter 5

_“Look,”_ Evie had said on the phone. “ _Whiteboy William wasn’t wrong when he said that love makes fools of us all, big and small.”_

“Shakespeare?

_“Thackeray. Maybe Shakespeare too. I think. They’re both Williams? “_

 

By nature, Ginny never sits still but her feet are too sore for her to pace – and the pool is warmed, at a higher temperature than the otherwise ambient balmy atmosphere. She immerses her feet into the shallow warmed pool, sitting over the tiled edge, leaning her weight back on the dry surface on her outstretched palms. The water reaches to the middle of her calves.

It’s perfect – soothing - the stinging pinch of the shoe bites start to ebb.

She swings her feet, watching the water ripple and fall over and around her legs.

How did they get to this point?

....How?

 

Ginny hadn’t intended to tell Evelyn everything – but Evie knew things weren’t right, from the moment Ginny said her ‘hello’. Before Ginny knew it, she started spilling the essentials to the wife of Sherlock Blip.

 _“Those bitches!”_ Evelyn had sounded drunk on the phone. _“They did not just give you the third degree. You’re not even a date. You oughta’ burn ‘em, nice and nasty.”_

 _“_ I know.”

 _“You burn ‘em, Ginny!”_ Evelyn hollered, making Ginny pull the phone back momentarily to protect her eardrums.

“Yes.” Ginny resolved.

_“They had better be crispier than the colonel’s chicken.”_

Ginny laughed. “Yes.”

_“Or I’m gonna get my fine ass down to LA and do it for you.”_

“Okay…”

_“Better yet. I think you should kiss him.”_

“What?”

_“You grab that thick hairy pansyass heartbroken mo’fo’ and stick your tongue in his mouth.”_

“Evie!”

_“Embarrass them bitches!”_

“Evie, for cryin’ out loud!” She hissed, exasperatedly. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

“ _I would totally do it. Hell! Blip’d do it! He’d stick his tongue in Mike’s mouth for free! And I’d let him do it. For free!”_

“I can’t kiss him.” She whispered, casting glances at Mike and Steven who were thankfully in conversation with the children. “Not only is that stupid, it’s inappropriate.”

 _“Rule number one, baby!”_ Evie slurred. “ _You hate the ex, and find a way to make him hate her.”_

“That’s rule number two – or clause b. Whatever! Listen! This is not about hating the ex, or the fiancé or hating anyone.” She said. “I just – he looks like beat up puppy! It’s painful to watch.”

 _“That’s why you kiss him.”_ Evelyn said, just after a hiccup.

“You’re missing the point.”  She lashed her arm out, wishing she could reach it through the phone and shake Evie to her senses.

_“No, I get the point, honey. You always take the side of the friend. That’s the rule. Even if it means you have to kiss him and come up with a mouthful of that facial hair!”_

Ginny would have laughed except…Mike was looking at her.

_“It won’t mean anything. You just do it for the team. Keep your head on straight and it won’t mean a damn thing.”_

“Are you out of your mind?”

_“You said you wanna do something about Mopey-Mikey, right?”_

“No! Evie!” She exclaimed loudly. She might has well have announced her conversation seeing as both men were looking at her. Mike looked concerned. Ginny dropped her voice and whispered. “I don’t wanna do anything! Or maybe I do! No!” She hissed loudly in frustration. “I feel so goddamn helpless! That’s all I’m saying!”

She looked at Mike and throws him a sheepish smile.

The furrows in his forehead were deepening with his eyebrows dipping inwards – and Ginny could imagine how agitated she might have appeared. She smirked – or tried to fake a nonchalant smile and then ran out of the room.

 

 

Kissing Mike might still have been less controversial after what just went down; she thinks with a sarcastic snort.

_You always take the side of the friend. That’s the rule._

 

 

“Eve, I gotta ask. Did he cheat?” Ginny asked, straight up, once she crept into the hallway. She looked back in the direction of the family room. No one had followed her. “They’re all acting like he was unfaithful.”

There was a long, audible sigh from Evie’s end.

“I mean, we all know he’s a slut.” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “He’s proud of it.” She scoffed.

Silence.

“They’re both clearly loyal to Rachel.” Ginny said. “And…you know I total fangirled over him, before.” She said. “I followed his life, you know that? I can tell you with absolute certainty that his whoring started _after_ rumours of the split started to circulate. _Before_ formal announcements. Maybe there’s stuff we didn’t know. Maybe that’s why they all hate him.”

(It would be enough for Ginny to hate him – if she still looked up to him as the perfect man on the wall. But Mike – was human now. His imperfections were starting to make him more relatable and less unapproachable.

If she thought about it, she didn’t want to know the truth, if the truth was that he had cheated – but….)

Silence.

She wondered if the phone got disconnected. “Evie?”

 _“You’re right.”_ Evelyn said _,_ sounding surprisingly coherent for a drunk woman. _“You shouldn’t kiss him. It would just be gossip fodder and you can’t risk that leaking to the tabloids.”_

“Thank you.” Ginny rolled her eyes, wishing Evie could see the sarcasm on her face.

There’s a pregnant pause before Evie sighs out loud again. “ _Y’know Gin.”_ Evelyn said, in a sombre voice. _“I keep forgetting how young you are.”_

“Huh?”

_“Blip and I are your only couple friends, and face it, we’re a hard 8 out of 10 on the relationship front. The average couple scores at 5, maybe 6. We’re not the representative demographic for you to understand this.”_

“Understand what?”

_“These people are Mike’s friends, right? Even if they don’t seem that way. He’s known them longer?”_

(That’s why she held her temper throughout, she wanted to tell Evie. ‘ _You always take the side of the friend. That’s the rule.’_ Had to apply to Rachel’s friends too right. She had to allow them the benefit.)

“Yeah, so?” She prompted.

“ _We don’t know everything that goes down in a marriage. Relationships are as unique as the people in it. Whenever a couple divorces – especially, if they’re a part of a group of couple friends – things get complicated. We don’t know who’s side to take – and being neutral is impossible. No matter what shit the shrinks say. It is impossible.”_

 “So what?” She said. “I should just let them insult him while he pines away for his ex. In front of her. And her fiancé?”

“ _Imagine if Blip and I were…”_

“No.” Ginny said, flatly.

 _“But just, imagine it Gin.”_ Evelyn asserted. _“Hypothetically – you’re close to the both of us, imagine if we were to split, which side would you be on?”_

It was Ginny’s turn to be silent. She couldn’t imagine it. Uh uh. Nope. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. It would be worse than Mom and Kevin…it would be worse than…

 _“What I’m trying to say is this…”_ Evelyn spoke in a compassionate voice. _“If he’s civil and respectful of Rachel – despite all the heart eyes and the jealousy – there’s something hidden that nobody knows. Maybe you shouldn’t make it tougher on him. Believe me, I am dead serious when I say this. If you’re saying that he still loves her, then that boy is already a fool. What was it that I told you about love?”_

“Love makes fools of…”

 _“Damn straight!”_ Evie chimed in _. “Love makes fools of us all, big and small. He’s compromised in ways you cannot begin to imagine. There’s nothing else you can do except be supportive. Just be there. It’s not fun and games anymore.”_

Ginny chewed on her lips.

 _“Look, Ginny.”_ Evelyn said, sighing. “ _I’m sorry, I’m a little drunk and I was jokin’ earlier about the kissing and the what not.”_

“Okay…yeah. I wasn’t…” Ginny smirked at the idea. “…it’s not like I was gonna act on it or anythin’.”

 “ _Maybe he’s not retaliating because he doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I mean, come on, Gin! It’s their tenth anniversary. This whole party is not even about Mike or Rachel – or you.”_

“But, Evie...”

 _“Ginny.”_ Evelyn sounded stern now. _“This is why, I thought it was a bad idea for you to go. Dinner with old friends who are closer to one spouse than the other, can get ugly. Don’t take anything. personally, okay? In case any shit comes flyin’ your way...”_

“You just told me to burn ‘em…” Ginny interrupted.

 _“…I mean, don’t take it for Mike’s sake.”_ Evelyn said. _“Remember, for once, this night isn’t about you. You chose to go with Mike as a friend, right? So go be one.”_

“What if everyone’s trying to tear him down? And he doesn’t even stand up for himself. He looks like he wants to be torn down!”

 _“Look, I wish I could come at those hoes with Blip’s bat, for your sake! But, just remember that you’re the plus one to a guy who spent a whole five minutes on national television praising you,_ after _you let that home run slip in the All-Start game. This is the guy who rounded up the Padres boys so they could get photographed in their birthday suits – to show support.”_

Ginny sighed.

_“So, of he’s keeping quiet – there has to be a reason - maybe you need to respect that.”_

Ginny nodded, even though she knew Evelyn couldn’t see her.

_“Look, I gotta go, but remember, Gin. This is not about you.”_

“Not about me.” Ginny echoed.

_Not about me. Not about me._ Ginny kept telling herself.

He looked so young, so happy and carefree in those wedding pictures. There was that boyish charm that had her crushing on him, back in the day. She pictured him as he was now, running her finger over the jawline of his frozen-in-time youthful face –

A tormented person lived in those hazel eyes, this night.

Aching for love. For home. For peace.

 _Not about me,_ she reiterated, steeling up her resolve.

 

 

 _“I screwed up – bad enough, for her to want out – bad enough, that she won’t give me any more chances to make it up to her.”_ Mike confessed.

She thought it was an admission. She thought that he cheated – or at least came close to it.

 _Not about me,_ she told herself – but she still thought of Mom – and Kevin. Gave him the same crap she gave her mother because she couldn’t bring herself tell her that she knew.

This fucked up version of : “I didn’t know how hard it was on you.”

 

 _Not about me,_ she told herself, when she was struggling with maintaining an objective opinion, and pushing away thoughts of why people like Mike chose marriage if they weren’t the type to stay faithful. Somehow, it dredged up the resentment and anger she felt when she saw her mother with Kevin. The same violent emotions were at war within her.

 

 

“Ever since you’ve joined the team, it’s been about you – 24 x 7!” Mike had roared at her, once – months ago. They were still in a process, at the time, trying to reset broken grooves in their rocky working relationship.

“I’m not ungrateful.” Ginny had told the Doc, after. “But for some reason, he’s making me feel like _I’m_ being selfish.”

“Being grateful doesn’t exclude you from being self-absorbed.” The doc had said. “Selfishness is a manifestation of trying to protect yourself.”

“So you’re saying that I’m selfish?”

“There are people around you who want to help you. But – they’re human, Ginny. They’ve got problems of their own. We’re all broken, patched up people who aren’t perfect. And, expecting our support systems to stay unconditionally supportive is unfair – and selfish. I’m saying that you’re here now…you don’t need to fend for yourself, the same way. Looks like you finally have people who are ready to protect you. It’s about time you step back and see it for yourself. You’re in the big leagues, Ginny – you’ve done it.” 

“I ain’t done nothing yet.” Ginny had parroted her father’s words, instead.

The Doc was right. She just didn’t want to admit it then.

_Not always about me._

And then, Cassie made the comment on Mike’s knee injuries.

 

Her mind took her back to the year they temporarily shifted Mike to the DL. Cassie mistakenly assumed was the same as him being as the year they shifted him into the triple A. She was about tell Cassie that they shifted Mike to Triple A before his knee injuries. That they were two completely unrelated happenings and only Ginny knew the timelines because she’d followed Mike’s career with true loyalty.

But.

That wild card game that they lost to the Pirates that year flashed in her mind. A mental image, where the cameras occasionally showed Mike, sitting in the dugout, nursing his knee – watching over his team.

He was in Pittsburgh.

Rachel and David were in Mexico.  

Fractal memories of interviews, snippets of articles, excerpts from analysis – they all started absurdly circling around in Ginny’s minds. David and Rachel animatedly talked about the foundation work.

 _Not about me,_ she kept telling herself, when the restlessness was threatening to overwhelm her. She shoved the thoughts aside -

– because - she was no different than anyone else at that dinner table, who didn’t know the facts.

 

She had already assumed - she had already judged – she had already condemned.

 

_Not about me,_ she told herself, when the Cassie-Lori snipe-fest started again, amped up by multiples of ten.

His stoic tolerance – his stressor markers – the deepening furrows on his face – the way he grit his teeth. His utter lack of desire to defend himself.

But.

Fragments of memories started absurdly linking together in her mind.

_Not about me._

 

 _Not about me,_ she told herself, when Mike finally cracked, stood up for her - like he always does, refused to let her berated - like he always does.

 

 _Not about me,_ she told herself, when Amy lost it – when she saw that accusation in Amy’s eyes.

Directed at Rachel.

 _Not about me,_ she told herself – before, suddenly, everything made sense.

Everything.

And, nothing.

 

Ginny has never had relationships that last long enough for her to understand the dynamics of and efforts needed to sustain love – or fidelity. The only solid lasting relationship, she’s had, has been with baseball. Her father never let her imagine a world without it. He’d drilled the determination into her mind for the singular purpose which she had already achieved.

“There was no other way.” Ginny had said to the Doc. “I think, he knew the reality. I was a girl. If there were any distractions, the system would swallow me only to spit me out” She had said. “If I get hurt, and I shed a tear, it’s labelled as emotional instability. If I get angry and shove a teammate, I’m emotionally volatile. If I’m on my period and the cramps are too much, I can’t be bothered to let anybody know because…then, I’m weak.”

“A robot in cleats.” The Doc echoed her own words to her

She owed her current life to that singular ambition. She didn’t know how to think without it until recently. That emerald diamond, that mound of dirt – the only place where everything was right. Where everything made sense.  She was in the majors – and it was up to her to take it forward.

Was it the same for Mike?

Did it offer him stability as well? Even at the height of the scandal of his separation, he maintained his batting averages. She’d never seen a more dedicated and more disciplined athlete. Was it baseball what kept him focussed and determined?

“I mean, I know this.” Mike had said to her, earlier that night. “She said baseball always came first.”

 

 

Ginny looks up at a deep purple California night-sky which still bears remnants of orange, despite its abysmally starless darkness. It’s not cold – but Ginny isn’t sure why she shivers.

She thinks of Blip – and Evelyn. The occasions were rare that Evie would look back and wonder, if things had been different.

“Sometimes, I think.” Evie would say. “If it had been just a little bit more about me and the kids. Would it have been easier? What if I’d taken the LCATs? Or what if I became a teacher?”

“I tell you this.” Blip would tell her, more than once, while they were together in the minors. “I don’t know why that woman puts up with me. I don’t know how she can love me after what I put her through. All I know is I can’t do this if she’s not on my team.”

 

Ginny thinks of Al and his forty-two years of marriage with four kids and twelve grandkids. “Hell! A whole baseball career’s only a tiny sliver of your life.” Al had said. “Better be ready to find happiness without it.”

But, maybe, it is life for some. Ginny thinks. 

It was everything for her, after all. For her, baseball was a constant. A passion that when combined with discipline was near precise in its execution. Despite the uncertainties that life threw at her, there was stability in the game. 

 

Would Blip have made it anywhere if Evelyn hadn’t made all those sacrifices?

If that bullet hadn’t blasted Al’s calf muscle in the war? Would he have met his wife as a major-league player? Would there have been a pity date? Would they still have had this long and happy marriage? That was peripheral to, but not central to baseball?

Would her father have made it to the majors, if he hadn’t gotten older, or injured, or tied down with a family? Would she just be Ginny Baker, daughter of some retired and one-time famous baseballer without an identity of her own if he did make it?

 

Ginny thinks of her mom – of Kevin.

“Baseball didn’t kill your father.”  Her mother had said. “A drunk driver killed your father. Baseball killed my marriage – and took my daughter away from me.”  

Ginny thinks of Rachel – of David.

“No matter how many sacrifices you make, it’s never enough.” Mike had said. “I mean, I know this.” His words, circled through her mind – stuck on loop. _“_ She said baseball always came first.”

Was it the same for Rachel? Did Baseball kill her marriage too? Did it take away from her a life, a family like it took away from her mother? Like it took away from Ginny?

 

Was it that Mike knew this – this ultimate devious truth about having a passion for something in your life? That it came at such a high price.

Marriage. Family.

For once, Ginny thinks, she has something in common with Mike.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

His cologne surrounds her, before his jacket does. She purses her lips – hearing the tiny creaks that his knees make as he squats.

“I’m not cold.” She says – but pulls his jacket around her, anyway.

“Couldn’t find a coat hanger.” His tone is dry and humourless.

Ginny smirks. “The water’s kinda nice.” She offers.

She waits in silence, listening to him grunt and moan as he pulls off his shoes and socks. When she turns her head to the side, she sees muscular calves appear as he folds the pant legs up to the level of his knees. She looks at the KT tapes, plastered in odd designs. He rips out the lower placed ones, wincing as the adhesive tugs at his skin and hair; he reapplies them above his knees before stepping into the water. There’s a long, protracted sigh of pain that he lets out when he moves to sit, shifting his hips closer to her.

She smiles when he lets out a grouchy moan of relief as he leans his weight back on outstretched arms. His eyes roll shut and the furrows on his brow relax – his jaw slacks.

Her thighs sluice the water when she widens them, letting her foot touch his. He opens his eyes and looks down at the dimly lit poolwater, at their submerged feet resting on the pixel-like designs of the tiled floor. He sits up straight, resting his elbows on his knees -  returning the gesture.

The warmth of the water overpowers skin temperature and Ginny can only feel the calluses on the side of his feet.

They sit quietly, staring at nothing. She doesn’t look at him, and he doesn’t look at her.

 

 

Ginny breaks the silence, at first. “You didn’t wanna bring me –“ Ginny starts. “I…shouldn’t have pushed.”

He says nothing for a while and then turns his head to her.

“No.” He sighs. “You’ve been nothing but great this whole time. I don’t know how I can…thank you for being so gracious. I’d have kicked Cassie if I were you. And I don’t care that she’s a girl.”

“What about Lori?”

“She gets a free pass. I dumped her for Rachel.” He snorts. “And…” He makes a sheepish grimace. “I might have forgotten to tell her that I’d broken up with her.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” He snorts and then rubs his beard. “Mike Lawson, the incredible fuckup, hauling everyone into his garbage.”

(She’s not used to this. Him criticizing himself. It’s disconcerting. She wonders why she gets the impression that she’s looking at a lost little boy – trying so hard to take responsibility. She has the urge to call up her therapist and talk to her about this.

But. She can’t.

This is not about her.)

Ginny doesn’t know what else to do but resort to humour. “So, you’re saying that…” She says, trying to tease. “…if Rachel hadn’t come in your life, you’d be married to that?”

“No way in hell I’d marry her.” Mike growls, guffawing. “Uh uh!”

Ginny sighs and pulls his jacket close. It feels like a hug – the closest, she’ll get to one from him.

“Cassie and Lori were...they come off as scheming twins but they’re good women.” He says. “They’re protective of their own.”

“And you weren’t one of their own?”

“I think they resent me on Rachel’s behalf.” He says.  

She doesn’t know what to say. There’s a long silence.

Mike lets out a pained sigh and then reaches for the jacket around her. Ginny lets her tug it off the shoulder adjacent to him. He doesn’t pull it off completely, instead, he rummages in the pocket and fishes out a paper stick, before he drapes the lapel over her.

It’s the gum, she gave him earlier. Ginny sniggers when she realizes, he’s still not eaten it.

He offers it to her. She shakes her head and reaches for her cleavage, fishes out another stick and shows it to him. Mike looks bewildered for an instant and then gives her that sexy head-nod.

“Trade you.” He murmurs, his eyes trailing over her bosom.

She raises an eyebrow at him until he diverts his eyes upwards. She shakes her head; he relents - taps his gum against hers.

They unwrap their respective sticks together and pop it in their respective mouths. They chew in silence for a while, until Mike speaks.

“I shouldn’t have said anything…” She says, remorsefully “…I guess you were trying to protect Rachel.”

“Don’t you wanna know?” Mike asks. “About why I never told anyone…about Rachel’s…”

“No.” She says. “It’s none of my business.”

“You’re one of my closest friends, Ginny.”

She shrugs.

“Okay, then I’ll tell you. Because, you know…” He shrugs. “I’m the guy who loves listening to the sound of my voice.” He states, deprecatingly.

Ginny looks at him.

He doesn’t face her. He just scrubs his face, chewing furiously, sighing. “I loved her.” He says. “I wanted her back. In case, she changed her mind, then I didn’t want anyone judging her. She may have cheated, Gin – but I was at fault – I thought – her unhappiness could be changed by gifting her diamonds and cars and shit. I thought it would just – go away. I thought it was a phase. I just – I was so consumed with staying on top of the game...I never cared to think what it was doing to her. She just wanted me. She just wanted my time, my attention – she didn’t want anything else – but me.”

“I get it.” She sighs, rolling the wad in her mouth. She thinks of her mother – of Kevin. She thinks of the decision she made at the age of thirteen _not_ to tell anyone of what she saw, when she ran home early from school one day, so sure that she was going to choose a beautiful pink dress that might have changed her life forever.

The furrows of his brow flatten. He blinks at her, repeatedly – his jaw rolling with chewing motions.

 “You think I’m a fool for still loving her?” He says.

“Yeah.” She says, honestly.

Mike shrugs his eyebrows, chewing pensively.

“Please.” He says, sarcastically. “Don’t spare my feelings or anything.”

She giggles. He smiles and tips his head at her.

“But that’s love.” She says. “Makes fools of us all.” She exhales out a longing sigh. “I guess, it’s a privilege. Not everyone gets to be loved by Mike Lawson, huh?”

He regards her, with a blank face, chewing rhythmically and then turns his head. “Do you think…” He says, brooding over the sight of the pool. “…it was the beard that did it?”

“Huh?”

He points to the forest growing on his face. “The beard. Do you think it was what put Rachel off?” He asks with a completely genuine looking concerned face. “You think that’s why she left?”

She stares at him.

He grins, suddenly. His eyes are twinkling with mischief.

“Yeah, maybe, it was, too much.” She nods her head, acting and sounding candidly innocent, rolling her shoulders. “I mean, David does kinda…rock the cavalier goatie.”

He snaps his eyes up at her - there’s a momentary flash of annoyance. She holds her ground and keeps smiling at him. He narrows his eyes at her, and a smile breaks out. (She loves those little creases at the corners of his eyes. She loves how his beard lifts with his cheeks.)

Ginny widens her eyes in mock seriousness. “I’d totally ditch your ass for that.”

Mike stops chewing for a second, looking at her blankly and then starts to chew slowly.

 “It’s such a pity.” He fakes a lamenting sigh. “We’ll never know what might have become if I showed up at your door – all ready to get hitched.”

“Yeah, looks like I dodged a speeding bullet.” She winks.

He sighs and shakes his head at her. That gorgeous grin is back. Ginny wonders if he knows how easily affected she is by his smile. She bursts into giggles every time she looks at him.

“I miss that guy on my wall.” She says, after a while. “He sure was a handsome fella!”

“He still is.” Mike declares, flaring out his arms and nodding.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, big foot.”  She states, wryly. “You grew that…” She points to his beard. “…and it ate up your pretty face, remember?” She grabs his chin and shakes it, rubbing her thumb over his beard.

It’s never rough, is the thing. Now that she has the luxury and the privacy to examine it carefully…

“It’s umm…” She thinks out loud. “…really soft.”

Mike’s smile fades, when her fingers join the thumb. Her heart beat quickens, as she scratches the skin underneath. That fuzzy feeling breaks out all over her, intensifying. Mike grasps her wrist as her finger pads start to flatten over his cheek.

“I told you,” He says – but - the humour is gone from his voice. “You love the beard.”

“You know.” She says, stifling a smile. “Maybe I do – a little.”

Her breathing gets iffy when he starts to rub his thumb over the sensitive skin between her thumb and her index.

“Ginny…” He says, thickly.

She doesn’t know if she’s imagining it. The way his head advances forward. She doesn’t want to read too much into it. The idea of kissing that beard hasn’t been repugnant for a while now, but she doesn’t want to seem over eager or desperate.

“Mike.” She whispers.

His eyes drop to her mouth. They’re so intense –almost dark blue, reflecting the night sky – or the water or…

… _Shit_!

She’s choking.

On the gum.

She snatches her hand back, looking away, feeling flushed. Mike snaps his head back, blinking.

She coughs and clears her throat repetitively swallowing until she feels it topple into her throat uncomfortably.

“Gin…?” He whispers, with concern and then suddenly thumps her back.

It works.

She sighs in relief when the sticky wad finally slides down her foodpipe.  She rolls her shoulders, gathering herself.

He’s still looking at her with concern when she brings herself to look at him with a relieved nod.

But.

It broke it.

Whatever that moment was – or could have been.

“Hey guys!”

Ginny exhales out raggedly, and then twists around, looking up at Steven and Amy as they come up to them. Amy’s holding tissues and two plates of what look like some really yummy looking cherry dessert and Steven’s got a glass filled with two pegs worth of a familiar brown liquid.

Ginny accepts her plate. Mike grabs a tissue to spit out his gum before accepting his plate. Amy shrugs off her shoes and promptly goes around to Mike’s side. Ginny relishes the first couple of spoons, watching Amy sink her feet into the water and then hug Mike’s arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

Ginny observes Mike’s caring smile, when he rests his head over hers. Amy looks so much like Felicity in that moment – with that childlike look of remorse and affection.

Ginny turns to her right, when there’s a rustle beside her. Steven’s hopping on his feet, folding up his pants with his free hands before he sits, immersing his legs as well. He reaches the glass across her to Mike, giving him a suggestive look. Ginny takes Mike’s plate, nodding at him. Mike sighs and takes the glass. He downs it in one gulp, hissing out and hands it back to Steven.

She hands him his plate back and the four of them sit like that – legs immersed in water and look out at the pool.

“I’m sorry, Mikey.” Amy breaks the silence, after a while. “I really am.” She looks over at Ginny. “And I don’t know how to apologize to you, Ginny. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I’m sorry, I ruined the party, guys.” Mike says. “Things just got away.”

“You didn’t.” Amy insists. “Stop taking the blame for this one, Mikey.”

 “I’m sorry, too.” Ginny nods, looking at Steven and Amy. “I – I mean this was your night. I’m just a stranger who crashed your tenyear-versary. I really didn’t mean to lose my cool.”

“I think you handled that better than I would.” Amy says. 

“Ah!” Steven pats Ginny’s shoulder. “Besides it wasn’t all bad! Better than number seven, for sure. Remember that, hon?”

“Yeah.” Amy snorts, lifting her head off from Mike’s shoulder and looking at him suggestively. “My mom showed.” She states.

Mike makes a ‘Yikes’ face.

Ginny who considers herself the posterchild for Mommy-issues doesn’t prod.

“If I ever buy a house with a pool.” Ginny says as she, cleans her plate. “I’ll get one with pool warmers.” She looks over at Mike’s half eaten dessert. He gives it up without a fight, giving her that naughty smile.

“Where are the others?” Mike asks.

Steven sighs. “I don’t care, anymore.”

Ginny finishes up the rest of Mike’s dessert and then looks at everyone as they just stare at the pool in silence. She starts to fidget.

“Baker’s bored.” Mike comments without even looking at her.

“No, I’m not.” She returns.

“Too bad we don’t have a trampoline.” Steven remarks.

“What happened to the one you had?”

“Felicity.” Both Steven and Amy chime simultaneously.  

Ginny snorts out laughter as she’s reminded of the energetic six-year-old jumping up and down like a hooligan.

Steven leans forward and then places the glass in the water. It bobs up and down and starts to float.

Without warning both Steven and Mike pick the cherry-pits she’d spit out onto the plates.

“Guys!” She grimaces at Steven. “Those were in my mouth.”

Both men shrug. They start aiming the seeds at the glass as it floats around. Amy reaches for some – she manages to knock one against the rim.

“Oh! You guys are all such wimpy thowers.” Ginny says, smugly.

“Yeah, you gonna show us your pitching skills there, Ginny?” Steven dares her.

She takes the last available cherry-pit and puts it in her mouth. She puffs her cheeks and blows.

Steven whistles when it lands perfectly in the centre of the glass, just before it floats beyond to the other side.  Ginny makes a fist bump with a triumphant smile.

Mike’s just looking at her with an unreadable expression for an instant while Amy cheers and Steven claps. His face changes suddenly, he smiles at her with pride.

 

“Hi.” A sheepish voice interrupts.

Ginny’s smile fades as Cassie and Andy come around. Cassie looks at her and Mike with a genuinely apologetic face and then starts to take off her shoes. The couple join them, soaking their legs in the pool, on the other side of Steven.

“I don’t know.” Cassie says. “How to apologize to you, Ginny.” Cassie says. She looks at Mike with tears in her eyes.

Mike nods at her. Ginny notices how – that’s all it takes -  before they’re both smiling at each other. No drama, no words – nothing.

So, Ginny shrugs and smiles, too.

“I was mad.” Cassie says, looking at Ginny. “Him and I – we’re like buddies one day and then I hear that he’s moved out and he barely speaks to any of us, after.”

“You don’t owe me any…” Ginny starts

“I do.” Cassie says, resolutely. “I know, technically I’m closer – to Rachel.” She looks at Mike. “That didn’t mean I didn’t care about you. I thought you were mad at us.” She looks at Ginny, and sobs. “He was the guy who made me laugh – and I was being selfish. I was angry that he wasn’t there when I needed him.”

Andy takes his wife’s hand and smiles sadly at Ginny. “We lost our child last year. Stillbirth.” He offers as an explanation.

Ginny holds her breath. She looks at Mike, who looks sad – but not surprised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t come, when I heard.” He says, thickly. “I had my head way up my ass to notice anybody else’s pain but mine.”

“You and me both.” Cassie smiles, letting tears slip. She sniffles and wipes them with the back of her hand and leans into her husband.

 

Lori and Sam follow.

Sam smiles at Ginny, but Lori still views her suspiciously. She gives Mike a kind look of apology though. As her face softens, Ginny sees the family resemblance between Lori and Amy for the first time.

Mike nods at her.

Ginny is surprised that Sam starts the conversation given that he’s clearly the quiet one. “Tell me you punched him, Mike.” Sam says. “At least once.”

Mike snorts and shakes his head.

“You’re a better man than I am.” Sam says, looking pointedly at Lori.

Lori doesn’t move, but it’s evident from her face that she seems to agree.

They all fall into a silence.

 

It’s cathartic for her. Ginny’s not used to catharsis without the Doc around. She’s uncomfortable again, enough to fidget. She’s an outsider, again. She’s the youngest tagalong among a group of people with a shared history that spans at least a decade and exceeds what words can define.

What she’s seeing for the first time in this night – is a genuine friendship of group of old friends. A makeshift family that Mike might have had in another life. 

Something she’s never had.

Ginny’s surprised when Cassie seems to sense her discomfort and smiles at her – a genuine, friendly smile. “Hey, Ginny, do you sing?” Cassie asks, keeping her head on her husband’s shoulder. Andy reaches for his phone and starts scanning for something.

Ginny’s so taken aback she doesn’t know how to respond.

Mike starts the chuckle and then drawls. “Baker’s a total dork when it comes to Katy Perry.”

“Katy Perry, then.” Cassie agrees and points to something on Andy’s phone.

“No!” All the others protest.

Ginny makes a pouty face. Mike looks at her with sympathy and shrugs. “Looks like you’re outnumbered.”

“I hate grownup parties.” Ginny mutters.

“How about Ben E. King?” Andy offers.

“I can work with that.” Ginny smiles excitedly.

The opening phrases start to play from Andy’s phone. _“When the night has come…”_ Andy starts to croon, surprising Ginny with his clean, baritone voice. _“And the land is dark, And the moon is the only light we'll see.”_

 _“No I won't be afraid, Oh, I won't be afraid,”_ Cassie joins him, surprising Ginny yet again, with a pleasant alto voice that matches Andy perfectly in the duet _. “Just as long as you stand, stand by me.”_

Both husband and wife sing together. _“So darling, darling, Stand by me, oh stand by me. Oh stand, stand by me, Stand by me.”_

Amy and Lori start to sway, humming along with the tune and eventually joining in song. Mike just leans back, smiling. Ginny feels his feet tapping against hers, under water. Sam follows suit. Ginny and Steven join with big smiles.

 _“If the sky that we look upon, Should tumble and fall_  
_Or the mountain should crumble to the sea_  
 _I won't cry, I won't cry, No, I won't shed a tear_  
 _Just as long as you stand, stand by me”_  
  
They all trail off as Cassie and Andy take over, looking into each other’s eyes and smiling only as lovers do. Their vocal pitches rising in synchrony, singing alternate verses.

_“And darling, darling, Stand by me, oh stand by me”_

_“Oh stand now, stand by me, Stand by me.”_

Ginny can’t help herself, she joins in earning smiles from everyone – Mike especially who looks at her with the most peaceful smile she’d ever seen on his face.

_“So darling, darling, Stand by me, oh stand by me.”_

_“Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me”_

“ _Whenever you're in trouble,”_ She looks at him and winks. His eyes form narrow slits; his shoulders shake a little with a small guffaw.

Cassie and Andy finish it off. “ _Won't you stand by me. Oh, stand by me, won't you stand now, oh, stand…Stand by me.”_

“Yay!” Amy grins as everyone claps. Ginny marvels at the transformation in Andy and Cassie’s faces as they kiss.

“Where’s Rach?” Mike asks, sighing.

“Here.”

They all turn around to find Rachel sitting on one of the poolside loungers, smiling  – she’s alone.

“Where’s David?” Mike asks.

“He’s on a call.” She says, rising, circling to the far edge of the group and joining them, next to Sam and Lori.

A spell of awkwardness falls on them. Ginny notices that Rachel won’t meet anyone’s eyes.

“This is the weirdest group therapy thing I’ve been to.” Lori remarks.

Ginny agrees with her for once.

“We should…” Mike says, looking at his ex longingly. “We should go.” He says, his voice croaky and thick.

“Mike don’t.” Rachel says. “Stay.”

There’s heavy emotion in her voice which could be slatted into remorse or repentance but there’s something deeper in her eyes when she looks at Mike.

Ginny sucks at relationships, sure – but she knows love when she sees it.

Her patience snaps.

The well of unselfishness inside her has dried. She pulls her legs out of the pool quickly because – she doesn’t want to stick around to see Mike’s heart-eyes for Rachel and then sit through the process of him changing his mind.

“Er we should…” Ginny says quickly, grabbing his jacket to keep it in place around her shoulders as she tiptoes with her dripping feet and drops on a poolside bed reaching for the towel. “We have to drive back. Y’know – only two days before the home games.” She says, trying to sound cool.

Mike looks back at her in confusion and then seems to snap out of whatever Rachel-induced trance he is in. He nods and stands up – slowly – groaning painfully.

Ginny notices that he picks up her shoes along with his own as he comes up to her.  She notices that Rachel notices as well.

She hands him the towel, and smiles politely as some small talk breaks out among the others. They slowly start emerging out of the pool as well.

 _David’s doomed,_ Ginny thinks, looking down and massaging her toes before snatching her shoes from Mike’s hand.

She won’t look at Mike. She can’t.

It’s a matter of time before Rachel will come back to Mike. Ginny knows this in the core of her soul.

Which should be a good thing. Mike wants her back. She’s happy for him – at least, she thinks, he is.

Thing is - Ginny only has compassion in her heart for one cheating wife. Her mom has occupied that spot. She can’t bring herself to care about Rachel or her excuses – no matter how justified they may be. No matter how much Mike can find it in himself to make excuses on her behalf.

 _Not about me,_ Ginny tells herself.

 

She’s already up on her feet and about to start thanking Amy and Steven when David comes out to the pool with his charming smile and cool elegance.

“Are we leaving, already?” David says, suavely.

“Yeah.” Ginny says. “It was nice meeting you.” She shakes his hand.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Baker.”

Somehow that sexy accent doesn’t sway her anymore. Somehow, following the last clause on Evelyn’s rules doesn’t seem so tough anymore.

Without thinking Ginny catches his shoulders and leans forward, aware of Mike and Rachel’s eyes on her. 

“I’d have kicked your sorry ass so hard, you’d be skating all the way across the fucking Atlantic if I were him.” She mutters. She waits for him to tense and then kisses his cheek, drawing back with a plastered smile.

David regards her with a blank expression.

She drops her hands from his shoulders and is about to pull back when she feels his palms on her elbows.

He has a cold smile. His touch is not threatening – if anything his grasp on her elbow is a light one – but Ginny feels the caution emanating from him.

“Alright.” David says. He looks over her shoulder at Mike. “Alright.” David repeats.

“What?” Ginny dares him.

Mike steps up closer – Ginny feels his body within inches of her back.

“Mike.” David looks directly at him. “I know what you think. I shagged your wife. I seduced her. Whatever awful thing, it is, you think of me, believe me, I’ve thought of myself – only far worse.”

 _Fuck, I’ve done it again, haven’t I?_   Ginny thinks. _Gone and messed it up, again._

“But.” David says, looking at Ginny with the same cold, unfriendly but polite smile. “I’m a decent man. Granted, the way we went about it was wrong, but I love her. And I will not apologize for that. So, I don’t give a shit about what you think of me.”

Ginny stares at him, biting down on her lower jaw, feeling her cheek muscle twitch.

“But,” David says, dropping his voice, in a painfully obvious sarcastic tone. “If it makes to satisfy your fledgling ego, Miss Baker, I’ll say this. I suppose, it’s a good thing you’re not him.”

“You’re never going to be half the man he is.” She says, in an equally low voice with a deceptively sweet tone.

David’s smile flattens. He doesn’t look so polite anymore. He opens his mouth to say something but Mike cuts in. “Get your hands of my Rookie, David.” He mutters. His voice is a low, menacing growl. 

Ginny’s head snaps at Mike. He’s got a stern, unflinching expression on his face and a naked warning in his eyes, directed at David.

David drops his hands from Ginny’s arms and shoves them in his pocket, nodding at her in apology. She steps back – her shoulder hitting up against Mike’s chest. He doesn’t withdraw or step away.

“I admire your loyalty to him. I’m not sure it’s deserved but, I admire it nonetheless.” David smirks.

Ginny curls her hand into a fist by the side of her thigh. She closes her eyes and exhales – because –

 _Not about me._ She tells herself.

“Why don’t you do it then?” David says, suddenly. He looks at Mike with an open challenge on his face.

“C’mon. I’ll give you one, unchallenged hit.” David steps directly into Mike’s line of sight. “Get it out of your system, as they say out here.” He widens his eyes emphatically.

“David! No!” Rachel cries out.

“No, no! It’s alright, love!” David says, reassuring her. “I think I deserve one. Above the belt – eh? Lawson?”

Ginny purses her lips, thinking of all the heat she’s going to have to face for bringing this shit on. If Mike can’t catch anymore, it’ll be her fault.

She looks at Mike, biting the inside of her mouth nervously.

Mike, however – she’s astounded – has got a pleasant, peaceful smile on his face. “Yeah, no.” He retorts, casually. “I’m good.”

“You know you want to hit me Mike.” David says. “Why don’t we just get this done with?”

“I’m done with it.” Mike says, plainly. He drops his gaze to her hand and quirks up an eyebrow – it’s only then that she realizes her hand is still tightly clenched into a fist.

Ginny opens out her fist and sighs.

He pats her back as they turn towards Steven and Amy. She’s expecting some levels of nervousness on their face but they both look amused – and impressed.

Ginny looks at Rachel, then. She looks frazzled and – she’s looking at Mike with a pathetic expression. Like, she’s shocked – like, she’s realized something that she doesn’t want to face.

 _Mike’s doomed, too,_ Ginny thinks, sadly.

She pulls his jacket around her shoulders, just once – because it’s close to the hug, she won’t ever probably be able to give him, freely. She shrugs it off and hands it to him as she straightens her face, getting ready to bid everyone goodnight.

“Tosser.”

Mike stiffens next to her and she knows he’s heard it to.

“Are you kidding me?” Ginny hisses.

“Baker.” Mike warns. “Let it go.”

“Come on!” David snorts. “You expect me to believe that you’re capable of rising above it all?”

Mike looks at her. Ginny’s mouth drops a little because – she’s surprised that he looks happy for once. Like, genuinely happy. Like, she’s pitched a no-hitter happy.

It’s disconcerting because it takes years off his face and makes him irresistibly attractive.

 _Oh dear._ Ginny feels warm all over.

He sighs and looks back at David and widens his eyes, rolling his shoulders. “I know, right.” He drawls.

“Pity, those cranky knees won’t allow you to play for long.” David winces, sarcastically. “Oh.” His face goes blank suddenly, like – something’s just occurred to him. “Is that the cause for your restraint? Are you worried you’ll bust your overpriced million dollar knees, old man?”

That’s it.

Like seriously – that is fucking it.

If she had a bat, she’d be throwing it on the ground, right about then.

“Hey!" Ginny’s spewing out the words before she can stop ‘em. “Only I get to call him that!”

“Woah woah!” Mike grabs her as she charges, fuming and spitting curses.

“Let me at it him!” She growls. “I swear to god, Mike!” She roars. “If you won’t punch him in the face, I will!”

The fury coursing in her veins is unbearable. Ginny writhes to the point that Mike literally has to lift her off the ground and turn her away from David. She twists around, kicking her legs out, pawing at his beefy arms to wriggle free.

His forearm tightens around her waist. “Easy there, Rambo!” His voice is calm when he pulls her up against his chest, her ass fused against his front.

“I’m gonna kill that sonnovabitch!” She screams.

“Ginny!” Mike bellows in her ears. “I’m done!”

She snaps still and looks up at him.

“I said I’m done.” He repeats, softly. Looking straight into her eyes. His gorgeous, beautiful hazel eyes are glinting with amusement. That hairy, gorgeous bastard’s actually grinning at her – and…

 _(…Ugh!_ Why is he smiling at her like that? Doesn’t he know how cute he is? Doesn’t he know that he’s making her want to smile, too.

Oh god.

Ginny’s doomed, as well.)

“I’m done.” He says, shaking his head and smiling at her. “I’m over it."

Ginny stops struggling and smiles looking up at him.

"Now." He looks at her with that _maddening_ smirk. "How about you play Rocky some other time? Save your pitching hand for something useful. Like your job?”

“Chill with the Stallone references.” She pouts.

That gorgeous far too sexy for his own good, sonnovabitch – he’s already laughing at her.

She grins back, shaking her head, placing her hands over his interlocked forearms

It’s only when Steven clears his throat that they pull apart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your reviews. final chapter up soon...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really upset because I'm having premonition feels that Mike and Rachel may get together at the end of s1.  
> I don't own the song
> 
>  
> 
> [Jason Walker's cover of Kiss Me by Six Pence None the Richer](https://youtu.be/jVgYgxq9hHE)

There’s a look on Rachel’s face that Mike knows.

Ten years ago, to this date, he stood outside a tiny wooden door of a changing room, in some obscure church in the middle of some small college town. He distinctly remembers having his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his legs, smirking at Rachel who stood on the opposite side, leaning against a wall.

He had just had a conversation with Amy-Beth while Rachel hovered at the back of the room, pretending to fuss over a fluffy wedding dress while eavesdropping on his speech. Amy heard him out, wiped her tear-stained face with the heels of her palms, jumped up, grabbed the gown and threw them both out of the room so she could change.

Now, here they are, again. Rachel’s opposite him, leaning against a wall. They are by a larger, more sophisticated door in a sophisticated house. He smirks at her, occasionally, as they both wait on Amy, yet again. Except, he’s holding a half-empty glass of whisky in one hand – his other hand curled into his pocket – and his knees complain every time he rocks back and forth.

(When she’s got a point to prove, Ginny Baker is never the epitome of anger management. Her going ape-shit on David’s ass, was something of a given, so that shouldn’t have been a great surprise. In the aftermath, though - a loose thread on Ginny’s dress got caught in his cufflink when he was restraining her. It ripped a nastily wide seam along the waist stitches just as they pulled apart. Ginny was more than a little irked about it – all the more flushed, after the debacle that just went down.)

Amy promised to fix the dress a jiffy – and now, he’s waiting on Ginny to finish changing so they can both get back.

Ten years ago, Rachel didn’t say much. She just kept looking up at him confused, with wide big green Rachel eyes – like she had discovered some treasure and she wanted to share it with him, but wasn’t sure if he could be trusted. There was longing and desire, and there was caution and restraint. An internal war within her – and twenty-six year old Mike stood by watching her lose with a smug sense of accomplishment.

Ten years ago, he was a cocky, brat who thought the whole world was his personal bitch.

 _She wants me,_ he had thought - ten years ago.  _She just doesn’t know it, yet._

He knew, then, that she was convinced to take him up on his offer of ‘just one real date’. He knew, then, that she was already into him. He knew, then, that one date would turn to many and he knew – it was the start of something new in his life. Mike was ready to fall in love for good, right then. 

And now?

Now.

He’s looking at the same face – and he’s seeing the same look in her eyes.

 _She wants me, back._ He thinks. _She just doesn’t know it, yet._

She’s with someone else. But. She may love David– but, there are parts of her that are longing for him. Now.

Thirty six year old Mike doesn’t feel so smug about it. Now.

There’s no redemption in this.

 

While the others left after saying their respective goodbyes, Mike was surprised to see Rachel linger. He neither has the patience, nor the will for small talk. So, he just stands there and watches her in silence until he can’t take it anymore. He asks her the first thing that comes to mind. “Where’s David?”

“He’s waiting for me.” She says. “In the car.”

“So – you uh – hanging around to say goodbye to Amy.”

“I uh – yes.” She says, sounding hesitant and awkward. Adjectives he rarely used for her. “Mike?” She says, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah.”

“We – should talk.” She says.

“About what?”

“About…” Rachel sighs.

“I’m not going to stand in the way of your happiness, any more, Rach.” He says. “I meant that.”

“I know…I just – I think…we need to -”

“There’s no ‘we’ anymore, Rachel.” He says.

She looks quite distraught – enough, to evoke sympathy in him. Heck! He even hugs her tightly – “I wish you every happiness.” He says - genuinely smiling at her; he hasn’t smiled at her like that in two years.

He means it.

There’s no ‘we’ between him and Rachel.

Not anymore.

It seems another life time, that she was his home. That she was his rock. That she was the person who connected him with an invisible earthing wire that stretched from his heart, through hers, to the ground. She knew him best – but Mike realized tonight that she only knew the parts of him she wanted to know. The rest were all swept away, kept aside. Out of sight, out of mind.

But.

Mike was more than just a collection of some preferred and unwanted parts. He may not be a perfect person, sure he’s infantile at times – but if there’s one thing he knows, it’s how to be an adult.

She’s looking at him, with her big green Rachel eyes – confused.

She clings as he pulls away from the embrace.

He doesn’t linger. He’s not even surprised that he doesn’t want to.

He’s done.

Amy opens the door, Ginny in tow, wearing the dress that looked as good as new. Mike doesn’t hold back the smile he feels when he sees her.

He notices that Rachel continues to stare at him – her face showing more distress by the minute.

 

 

Mike watches on with affection as Amy wraps Ginny a death-grip hug, thanking her and apologizing to her and inviting her again in the same breath.

“Maybe retirement isn’t the worst idea?” Steven says to him, after he hugs him, clapping his back. “There could be _some_ pleasant benefits to it.”

“Like what?”

“Like dating whomever you want.”

Mike finds it odd that he would say that. “I can date whoever I want even now.” He states.

“Can you, really, though?” Steven looks over at Ginny and back at Mike.

“Don’t go there.” Mike warns him, with a smile.

“Buddy – I think, you’re already there.” Steven says, slapping his back, again, before he goes over to Ginny.

 

 

“We done brawlin’ for the night, Rookie?” He teases her as she joins him at the front door.

“Yep.” She grins at him cheerfully. “Totally worth it!”

His smile, turns to a chuckle – his chuckle turns into a laugh and his laughter is in the chain-reaction zone when they walk to his car, uncontrolled and explosive. He laughs as he hands her the key (He’s not inebriated, but he’s not going to tempt fate. Or the LAPD. So, he decided against driving.); he laughs as he gets into the passenger seat for the first time in his own car - first time in years since he got a drivers license. He laughs while she testily starts it up, he laughs as she drives.

He laughs like he’s never laughed before.

He’s not high on a measly four pegs of fine Tennessee whisky, but Mike sure laughs like he is.

She’s pouting the whole time she drives – frowning at him in disapproval.

He can’t stop it. Every time it feels like it’s going to ebb, he just looks at her and then spurts into guffaws.

Mike knows how insane it all seems – but he’s not laughing because the night turned out to be a success (which it didn’t) or because it was so much fun (which it was – in many ways). He’s laughing because he’s fucked.

Shit.

He’s legitimately fucked.

He’s fucked. He’s fucked. He’s fucked.

He’s barely over the one woman who won’t have him.

And now.

He’s falling in love with the one woman he can never have.

He’s well and truly fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

There must be some sort of award or medal for this.

Ginny Baker -  first woman in the major leagues, All-Star, face of Nike and - the one person who broke Mike Lawson.

He’s laughing like a maniac – and yeah, it’s funny as hell – but Ginny’s wondering whether she should be driving to the hotel or the nuthouse.

“Would you stop that!” She keeps exclaiming – and it spurs on another ha-ha-fest.

Ironic, huh. An hour earlier, she’d have given up her pitching arm to see that smile on his face.

Just when she thinks he’s sort of settled for grinning like an idiot – just shaking his head, chuckling quietly every now and then, he voluntarily turns on the radio –and on comes Katy Perry’s _‘Teenage Dream’_ – and he throws his head back and laughs again.

It’s more annoying than silence, is what Ginny thinks as she drives. She’s never been more relieved to see the hotel.

“Ah!” He says, grinning at her with that idiot smile. “just give it to the valet.”

That totally floors her. He’s super possessive about parking the car himself. It’s freaky enough that he let her drive it. “Seriously?” She says.

“Yeah.” He waves his hand, casually. He grins wide as he tips the valet, hurrying her to walk into the hotel.

She thinks that maybe he’s settled a bit. Maybe the lunacy has finally come to an end.

“It wasn’t that funny.” She grumbles, thinking that maybe he’s finally done with the hysterics. “I would have socked him, you know. I was serious.”

And dammit – there he goes again!

And now everyone’s staring at them.

 

 

Ginny huffs angrily and stomps to the concierge to collect her card.

“Come on.” He says, smiling at her, grabbing her arm as she marches towards the elevators.

“Oh, so now you’re able to form words?” She pouts at first. Then when she realizes she’s being steered in the direction of the hotel lounge she frowns.  “Woah! What? Where?”

“Come on, Rookie.” He cajoles. “I owe you a drink.”

 

 

They’re the only people in the lounge, save the bartender, and the surly looking middle aged guy who plays the piano, crooning into a mic with his smooth, suave voice.

Ginny downs three dirty martinis, serially and snaps her eyes at him wide, pointing her finger right between his eyes, when he starts to chuckle

“Don’t you dare laugh, Lawson.” She warns. “I’ll kick you in the nuts.”

Mike chuckles and raises his glass up to her.

“What is it with bearded old men and scotch anyway?” She says, propping her head up on an elbow resting on the bar edge.

“It ages well – kinda like me.” He hands her his drink. “Slow sips, okay – Baker? You’re supposed to taste it, let it wash down, nice and easy.”

“Nice’n’easy’s my middle name.” She says and sips, making a face when the bitterness hits her.

Mike gurgles with laughter when she widens her eyes, snapping up straight when she realizes what she’s said.

He laughs more when she punches his arm.  

The music dims down as the song concludes. Pianoman takes a break and heads to the corner of the bar.

Mike calls for another round. They drink quietly for a few minutes, until Mike looks at her with a sombre face that’s a complete opposite to the riot he was kicking up just earlier.  

“Rachel was the love of my life, you know.” He says softly.

Ginny sips on her drink and doesn’t say anything. He’s got a soft look in his eyes.

“She was the only one who – knew me.” He says. He smiles at the bartender as he pours more scotch into Mike’s glass. Mike takes a small sip of it and then groans out a sigh. “She knew what I was. Am.” He says, like it’s an afterthought.

“Am?”

“I am…I was…” He sighs. “…a nobody. I was trash. Maybe a big part of me still is.”

Her intake of breath is sharp and loud.

“My mother – was…” He rolls his eyes and chuckles sarcastically. “She was my mother.”

Ginny stays absolutely still – holding her breath as he talks.

“I never told this…what I’m about to tell you. Not even Rachel?” He looks at Ginny. There’s a silent query in his eyes, like he wants her to recognize how crucial it is for her to understand how private the matter is.

Ginny nods.

Mike exhales, like - he’s relieved that she’s understood. “My father has a family of his own. I have a half-brother and half-sister, who don’t know I exist. She took me out to meet him once, when I was younger. He sort of – inspired me to be catcher. I didn’t know he was my dad, until…until we moved again.” He rubs his face, groaning out another sigh. “We moved around. A lot.”

Ginny feels overwhelmed. “Why are you telling me this?” She says, looking at her drink, unable to look at him.

“Rachel said that I tend to drag people into my garbage. Because, I’m about the chase.”

Ginny snaps her head up at him.

He has a forlorn smile.

“Mike.”

“She’s right –“ He sighs. “And she’s wrong.”

“Mike.”

“Baseball has been the only thing that was right for me.” Mike says, in a soft, low voice. “The Padres were – _are_ the only family I got.”

“Mike.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“I know things have been weird between us. What I’m trying to say is – I don’t want to drag you into my mess, Gin. You’re too important to me. And not just because you’re my pitcher – or…the first woman in the major leagues or anything. I guess, what I’m saying is, _you’re_ family.”

“Mike…” She says, uncertainly. “I really don’t mean any disrespect here…and I’m trying to be a nice person but…”

He looks at her like he’s bracing for the worst.

“But.” Ginny sighs. “Rachel’s full of shit.”

She smiles as his face goes blank.

“I know you love her.” She says, but she doesn’t feel remotely remorseful. “I am sorry…but…”

“No, you’re not.” He says, quickly – a knowing smile breaking out on his face.

“You’re right. I’m not.” She says, sitting up straight and folding her arms across her chest. “I respect what you feel about your ex – but…”

“But, you think she’s full of shit.” Mike chuckles softly, raising his glass up at her and shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“And – I’m sorry about your childhood.” She says. “But – I don’t think it’s fair to think of yourself as trash. Look at what you’ve accomplished. Look at where you are.”

Mike regards her with a plain, pensive look.

A doleful loungey piano melody starts to play, again. Some boring instrumental song that seems like an anti-climax score for the end of this emotionally exhausting night.

He searches her eyes for a long time, like he’s trying to convince himself that she means what she says, that there’s some weight to her words. At some point, it seems like he’s convinced himself of it and then nods at her. He finishes his drink and gets off the stool, patting her shoulder. Ginny spins around on the stool and watches him hand a tip to Mr. Pianoman after having a small discussion.

Mike gives her a flippant smile and shrug as he comes back to her. The music changes from that dreadfully cliché music to the opening phrases to slow music that’s familiar to her.

“That’s like…nineties music.” She says, smiling at him uninhibitedly.

Mike extends his hand to her and shrugs. “I’m a nineties guy.”

Ginny places her right hand into his, thinking nothing of it. He gently tugs her till she slides off the stool and then she’s gliding towards him.

It’s effortless. Comfortable.

“I was born in the nineties, y’know.” She says, smiling at him.

He places his right hand on the back of her waist –and adjusts his left hand so that he’s cupping the fingers of her right hand, with their thumbs interlocked.

“I know.” He murmurs, looking straight into her eyes.

 _“Kiss me.”_ The man starts singing. It’s low pitched and slow. _“Beneath the bearded barley.”_

“What are we doing?” Ginny asks – that fuzzy feeling overpowering her again.

“Dancing.” He states.

They’re not even moving.

_(“Nightly, beside the green, green, grass.”)_

“We can’t.” She says, quickly.

“Why not?” He asks, but doesn’t seem surprised or offended by her objection.

_(“Swing, swing, swing the spinning step, I wear those shoes and you will wear that dress.”)_

“You never…” She starts to say and trails off.

“I am, now.” He replies. His voice is low and…seductive.

 _“So-oh, kiss me…beneath the milky twilight,”_ Pianoman’s voice rises in pitch. “ _Lead me… out on the moonlit floor.”_

In the dim light of the lounge, his eyes sparkle – reflecting yellow and purple tints of the illuminating lights.

_(“Lift your open hand, Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance… Silver moon's sparkling…”)_

“C’mon Baker.” Mike’s voice drops, to that irresistibly sexy low timbre. “Dance with me.”

Ginny’s already halfway there. She mechanically places her hand on his shoulder and lets him lead.  There’s just adequate space between the empty lounge chairs and tables, where he guides her.

_“So, kiss me.”_

Mike twirls her out and in as the melody sounds. She giggles as he stops her precisely by catching her waist, stopping her from stumbling into him. 

She lets loose and slips closer into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

They dance like that for a bit, swaying with each other to the soft, slow tune.

 

_“Kiss me down by the broken tree house_

_Swing me upon its hanging tire.”_

_Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat_

_We'll take the trail marked on your father's map.”_

 

Ginny looks at Pianoman, who seems as quite into the song as she is, playing the instrumental interlude louder, his eyes closed, like he’s enjoying the music he makes.

“I’d never have pegged you to be into this song.” She mumbles.

Mike doesn’t say anything. She feels his hand slipping to the small of her back.

He pushes her back and spins her back in, as another piano interlude plays, reeling her around, drawing her this time so her front hits up against his chest as he catches the back of her waist.

_“Oo-oh, kiss me…”_ The singer starts. “ _Beneath the milky twilight, lead me… out on the moonlit floor.”_

 

Ginny gasps softly with the suddenness of it, but slips her arm under his to flatten her palm against his upper back. His arm snakes around her waist. She rests her cheek against his – his beard wisps against her skin in a way that makes Ginny all tingly.

She slides her hand up to his shoulder, gripping it tight.

_“Lift your open hand, strike up the band and make the fireflies dance…”_

 

She draws her head back to look at him – their faces are barely inches apart –

Her heart quickens.

_“…Silver moon's sparkling…yeah…So, kiss me.”_

 

For some reason, she thinks of Rachel.

Of, the longing look in Rachel’s eyes towards the end of the evening.

 

_“So kiss me…”_

 

“Dammit.” She thinks out loud. “I should have done it.”

“Done what? He murmurs. His eyes scanning her face in random movements. He looks like he’s in a trance.

“Kissed you.” She says, matter-of-factly. “In front of Rachel.”

He blinks, draws his head back. “Huh?”

“Just to make her jealous.” Ginny says, making a casual grimace. “Maybe it would have spared us all that drama towards the end.”

He stops. Mike’s just looking at her blankly.

“Relax.” Ginny says, in a humorous tone. “It wouldn’t have meant anything.”

 _“Kiss me…”_ The singer sings – in a hauntingly slow meter – without the piano’s melody. “ _Beneath the milky twilight… “_

It’s tantalizing.

 

_“Lead me out on the moonlit floor._

_Lift your open hand, Strike up the band and…_

_… make the fireflies dance, Silver moon's sparkling….”_

 

Mike just keeps gaping at her – to the point that Ginny starts to fret.

“Don’t sweat it, Mike.” She croaks out a chuckle, nervously. “Like I said, it wouldn’t mean anything.”

 _Okay. This is awkward now,_ she thinks. She draws her palm from under his arm and makes to push back.

He doesn’t budge.

She’s freaking out because he just looks too serious for comfort.

 

 _“So kiss me….”_ The piano’s tones fill between the singer’s vocals. _“Kiss me…”_

He releases her outstretched hand and brings his fingers to her cheek, trailing his fingertips, pushing back a curl of her hair, behind her ear.

Ginny’s heart stops for an instant and then resumes beating and dangerously rapid pace. Her legs feel numb – and she’s transfixed – held prisoner by his deep gaze.

His thumb rubs over her cheekbone, the other fingers splay between her ear and jaw. She feels callused borders setting off a series of mini-explosions of something warm and exciting over the side of her face.

“Mike.” She whispers.

He inhales deeply before he presses his lips to hers.

_(“Yeah - oh …”)_

Ginny’s eyes roll shut, opening her mouth, inviting his tongue to finds hers, and tilts her head. The flavour of whisky hits her, she cranes her neck, kissing him back – leaning into him, cupping the back of his neck, groaning happily because…yeah….

_(“Kiss me. Beneath the bearded barley.”)_

The sensations elicited by his beard feathering over the sides of her mouth and chin don’t seem obtrusive, at all. If anything – they’re –

\- they’re arousing. Her nipples stiffen in response and her lower body clenches.

_(“Nightly. Beside the green, green, grass.”)_

She moans hungrily. He steps forward in response, wedging his thigh between her legs pulling her closer, sweeping her close against his hard chest – his hand hovering right over the curve of her ass.

_(“Swing, swing, swing the spinning step, I wear those shoes and you will wear that dress.”)_

He gasps for breath while he licks her tongue. He hums into her mouth, sending pinpricks of lust all over her. She slides both arms around his neck and hugs him, sliding her fingers into his hair. His hand tightens over her face when he opens his mouth wider and grazing his teeth over her lower lip.

_“Kiss me. Beneath the milky twilight._

_Lead me out on the moonlit floor._

_Lift your open hand and strike up the band_

_And make the fireflies dance…_

_Silver moon's sparkling…._

_So. Kiss me…._

_Yeah-oh._

_Kiss me.”_

A loud whimper escapes her in protest when he pulls back, tugging her lower lip between his teeth. She’s vaguely aware that the song has ended. Their noses are touching. Her fingernails are dug into his scalp. Her breathing is ragged and her mouth legit feels tingly – like ignited sparklers are pressed up against her lips.

She’s so impossibly turned on -  her vision is blurry when she looks up at him.

“You sure about that, Baker?” He whispers, thickly. His eyes are still on her mouth. His breathing his hard – and every exhaled blast of air, hits her lips – inciting those sparks all over again.

She gulps, draws her palms out of his hair and places them tentatively on his shoulders. “About what?” She croaks.

“That – it won’t mean anything?”

He withdraws completely, except for their connected hands - staring at her with a smile that’s neither mischievous nor jesting. It’s filled with gentleness and emotions and makes her feel…

…feel like her body’s not happy about this aching separation from his.

Ginny knows it then.

Oh, well…

She’s well and truly fucked.

 

 

\- end-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this guys, especially you CLKit.


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